Taboo
by TsuRaja
Summary: "George knew all about taboos. He knew that his love for Fred was considered one of the worst. He'd promised himself he wouldn't act on it. He'd decided being near Fred was enough. Now he sat alone, his body collapsing on itself as he wept in the wake of his first and only kiss. He knew he'd crossed a line and he could never go back now" (Twincest... READ WARNINGS & SUCH!)
1. Close

**Author's Note: My first fanfiction (or writing of any kind) in a long, long time… It has a plot, not just smut (I don't do ****just**** smut usually) though there will be some fun in later chapters so fear not! Hope I'm as good as I remember. Wish me luck and here we go! Don't forget to review! I love me some reviews!**

**Warnings: (updated a little as of 8/13/13) Twincest, fluff, feels, sappy romantic moments, voyeurism, sensitive!George, jealous!George & Fred, possessive!George, teen drama, angst, fantasizing, violence, sexual situations between minors, dubcon, slight AU and OOC moments here and there, and other such shenanigans will take place over the course of this fic. I'm doing a mass warning now just to get it out there since I don't care to post warning on every chapter.**

**Rating: M (for later chapters and sexual content)**

**Genre: Romance/Drama/Angst**

**Parings: Fred/Alicia, Implied George/Hermione, Fred/George, and anyone else I decide to ship for fun.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter… JK Rowling beat me to that claim to fame and I tip my hat to her while I borrow her lovely characters and twist them to my own delight. **

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Chapter One: Close

Some taboos were not limited to one sect of humanity. Even at the age of fifteen, George Weasley was painfully aware of this statue and had been from his earliest memories. He struggled to remember the first time that stark reality had set in, but he could clearly remember the first time he noticed Fred as more than just a brother. The red-headed prankster had always been close to his family, loving each of his brothers for their strengths and weaknesses alike. It was Fred, however, whom he loved the most and he'd confessed this once to Charlie.

.~*~.

_It was Christmas break, their third year of Hogwarts. Everyone had come home for the holiday, filling their puzzle-pieced house to the brim. George and Charlie had managed to find a quiet spot in the house, shielded from the rest of the family._

"_I… I think I'm in love with Fred," George confessed, his face turning red to the tips of his ears as he scanned Charlie's face for a reaction. He hadn't planned to tell anyone, but for years it had been waiting to burst out and, finally, he'd decided he could trust Charlie above anyone else. He couldn't repress a shy smile while he waited._

_His older brother just sighed and shook his head, his eyes sorrowful. George's face fell. "No, George. You __can't__ be with Fred. You __can't__ love him like that. You __don't__ love him like that." The last sentence held a tone of command in it._

_The tears welled up immediately. George had always been more sensitive than the other Weasley children with the exception of Ron, though he made a good show of hiding it. He buried his face in his hands as his body began to shake. "B-but I do…" he wailed._

"_No. You __don't__," Charlie insisted. "You __can't__."_

"_Why can't I love him? He's half of me!" thirteen year old George cried as Charlie laid a comforting hand on his shoulder._

_George wanted to scream. He thought Charlie would understand. Thought he might give him some advice or something. He thought saying it would magically make everything okay. He was wrong. _

"'_S just not how it works," Charlie said, smiling sadly. He did his best to keep his voice soft and comforting. "You can love him, but you can't __love__ him. Not in that way. Besides, I don't think Fred feels the same…"_

_George broke into all out sobs at that. He'd never thought to question whether Fred loved him as more than a brother. He'd assumed his feelings would be returned in kind - until now. His body shook as doubt hit him for the first time, forced to listen to his big brother explain to him how society would see them as __sick__ and __wrong__ (words that never left George's mind) if he were to pursue Fred in "that way" (as Charlie put it) and how he should just find a nice girl when he was old enough and encourage Fred to do the same._

_George couldn't fathom ever urging his twin to be with anyone else. He couldn't understand how any kind of love could be seen as anything less than wonderful, but, in the end, he conceded the point. He told himself his brother was right. Charlie was always right. _

_After several more minutes of crying (that felt like hours to poor George), he looked up with soulful blue eyes. Charlie looked away, but would not let him go until he had made him promise he would bury his feelings and move on. George agreed, though he knew it would never be that easy. _

.~*~.

Now, most twins were close, each fostering their conceptual bond differently, but to George, he and Fred were different. They weren't just close. Not the way other twins were. They depended on each other more. Their bond was… more. Their bond was special. In George's eyes, Fred was literally his other half of his soul.

George had spent his life following his twin around with dogged loyalty, studying him with a spark of something unreadable to the outside world lighting his jovial blue eyes. Had they not been twins, or at the very least not been identical, any passerby would have taken George as an adoring little brother (a thought that always made him smile). He admired Fred's sense of humor, his courage in the face of danger, his confidence, and his charisma. He admired everything that made Fred who he was - everything that made him so wonderfully different from George.

George had tried to convince himself that his conversation with Charlie had helped and did his best to remember what Charlie had said and the promise he had made. He tried to say it was only admiration of his twin and nothing more, but as the seasons passed, blending the years together, he knew it wasn't so. He knew that he felt something… something more. Something unmistakable that no one would ever understand. So he hid it as best he could, covering it with false bravado he'd learned from watching his twin and bottling up the wealth of emotions that threatened his sanity any time Fred was around.

No, he and Fred were special. Their bond was special and, in George's mind, nothing could threaten that. Even if he could never tell Fred how much he loved him - was in love with him - it was fine. As long as he was close to his brother, that was enough for him. Nothing could ever tear apart or come between the Weasley twins.

This is what George Weasley had thought, until the year they turned fifteen and Fred started dating.


	2. Adding Up the Lies

Chapter Two: Adding Up the Lies

It was early November at Hogwarts and the weather had turned bitterly cold, forcing most students to huddle inside the castle. The common room had been a hive of activity all evening. George had wanted some peace and quiet, but Fred had insisted on going out for a walk, despite the cold.

George had retreated to their bedroom with a comic book while Fred made his way out onto the grounds. They weren't given any roommates this year for the school's fear of them testing their products on them. George was flopped out across his bed, enjoying the latest issue of _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_ when Fred came bursting into the room. George didn't bother looking up.

"What's up?"

"I've got a date!" Fred beamed proudly, his sapphire eyes sparkling with excitement.

Normally George loved seeing Fred so happy, but this time, he could only stare in shock.

"Pick your jaw up," Fred teased. "It's not that shocking." He continued to beam at his twin. After a moment George regained his composure, clearing his throat.

"So… who…?" He didn't want to ask, but he had to know.

The answer was instant, like it had been waiting to spring out of his mouth at the question. "Alicia Spinnet!" Fred grinned widely as he sat on his own bed, tugging his jacket off. "You remember her? She's a fourth year," he explained, watching for a spark on recognition on George's face.

George was at a loss. He knew who Alicia Spinnet was. How could he not? They were on the same Quidditch team. She always stood out with her dark, honeyed skin, stark black hair, and even ebony eyes against a bright blue sky. She'd always conjured the image of a crow in George's mind. He knew Fred had developed a crush on the Chaser last spring, but George had blown it off for the most part. Still, he'd kept a close eye on Alicia since, making sure she kept her distance from his twin.

George had also known one day they would start dating, but the sudden revelation had all but knocked the wind out of him as surely as someone punching him in the gut. He stared agape while his brother grinned at his news. It was their fifth year at Hogwarts and, so far, neither of them had bothered to discuss the possibility of dating or girls or anything even remotely along those lines. Now, out of the blue, Fred had a date with a fourth year Gryffindor. George swallowed hard, feeling the looming threat this date held.

He eyed his brother, taking in his features head to toe, finally letting his eyes settle back on Fred's face. His stomach turned as Fred continued to stare him down expectantly, waiting for a response. By now he'd inched to the edge of the bed as if George would whisper his response. They were identical to most people, but he knew better. The differences in them, physical and mental, were plain as day to George and he cherished each offset freckle, each separate habit and personality quirk like no one else could. Fred, in turn, loved his knack for logic and complex thinking and greatly valued his opinion above anyone else's.

George frowned, his mind a buzz of sudden activity and emotion. "Shouldn't we be thinking about our O.W.L.S. instead of dating?" he asked, finally, quirking an eyebrow and trying to play it cool, though he could feel jealousy rising from somewhere deep inside him.

Fred shook his head, chuckling. "I can't believe you, man. I finally get a date and you're worried about studying? Really?"

George let out an irritated sigh, running a hand through his long, copper hair. "Yeah, man. I am. It's not some silly test we can just blow off for some… some floozy." The words had no sooner left his mouth than he regretted it. He knew Fred would not take the slur toward his crush lightly.

Fred glared, his normally bright eyes turning a deep shade of blue as he stood, his voice booming. "Floozy?! Awesome!" He'd always been quick to anger. "Why don' ya just let me know what you really think?! Ya know, I don't know why the hell you can't just be happy for me, George! I didn't laugh at you or insult your choices when you told me you liked Hermione!"

.~*~.

_Shortly after his talk with Charlie, George pulled himself together and made his way back to his room where Fred was tampering with some old fireworks, trying to make them shoot strings of green goop upon exploding. _

"_Hey, Georgie."_

"_Hey." George couldn't hide the anguish in his voice as he sat on the bed and Fred noticed immediately, hurrying over and sitting close. Too close._

"_What's the matter?" he asked, tipping George's head to look at him. George's reaction was immediate, his face taking on a brilliant shade of pink as he jerked his head away. He felt his heart flutter in his chest, a new wave of tears welling in his eyes, and cursed himself. _

_Fred had already noticed the redness in his twin's eyes and glared. "Someone pick on you again? Was it Percy?" His temper flared at the memory of the last time Percy had made George cry. He'd called him immature and scolded him like a two year old over a small, harmless prank until he got tears out the more sensitive of the Weasley twins. Fred had gotten into a fight with Percy that day, punching him hard enough to black the elder Weasley's eye._

_George shook his head, sniffling, but refusing to look up. His ears were red now in an unmistakable blush. _

_Fred calmed himself and smiled a little, relieved. "Is it…" he hesitated a moment, pondering his question before continuing, "a girl problem?" His tone was gentle with a hint of teasing behind it._

_George looked up then, stunned by the question, but grateful for the perfect excuse being handed to him. He nodded slightly._

_Fred sighed heavily, frowning. "No worries, man. Who is it?"_

_George stumbled over his tongue, searching for a name, any name that wasn't Fred and finally spit out one: "H-Hermione."_

_Fred winced a little and chuckled, ribbing George playfully. "Oooooooh… yeah… she's a tough one, even for a first year. Good luck there." George looked at him with sad puppy dog eyes and he sighed again, "Don't worry, I won't tell as long as you quit moping about and give me hand with these fireworks, eh?"_

_George nodded numbly, wiping the back of his hand over his eyes, clearing away unshed tears, as he headed over to their workbench. It had been a close call… It had also been his first time lying to Fred and that, somehow, didn't sit well with him._

.~*~.

George winced under the weight of his brother's voice and the reminder of his false confession from two years ago. It had been a quick cover up that was coming back to kick him in the ass. He looked up, fully remorseful now for having said anything in either instance. "Sorry, Freddie… I've just been stressed. You're right. You didn't laugh and I shouldn't have said that. I'm sure Alicia is a nice girl and…" he faltered a little before continuing quietly under Fred's unwavering glare, "I'm really happy for you." The words tasted like ash in his mouth. This was the second lie he'd ever told his twin. His stomach soured a little.

Fred softened a little, unable to stay mad. He was never able to stay mad at George for long and they rarely ever argued. "It's cool. No worries. Shouldn't have lost my temper, I guess. Anyway, I wanna celebrate," he announced, switching gears and grinning again.

George pursed his lips, once again going back to his comic. "Go for it…" he muttered.

"Let's go test the Ton-Tongue Toffees on the first years," Fred offered his eyes glinting, mischievous and hopeful.

George shook his head, letting his hair fall into his face as he pretended to read. He could feel tears starting to sting his eyes at the thought of Fred going on a date. "Nah… I'm not feeling so well."

"Aw, don't be like that. It's no fun without ya, Georgie!" Fred got on his knees at the end of his brother's bed, putting on his best pout.

George did his best not to look at him. "I said no!" he shouted, flipping over on the bed away from Fred. The elder of the twins blinked, stunned. George didn't often yell.

"Hey, you ok, Georgie?" Fred was tentative as he reached out for his brother.

George pulled away just as Fred's finger tips brushed his shoulder. "I have a headache." He was suddenly grateful for the copper curtain that shielded his face as he lied again. Three… three times he's lied to Fred now; twice in the past hour. He felt his stomach turn again at the thought and the sick feeling he'd already developed increased. "Besides…" he continued, his voice coming out softer than intended, a clear indication to anyone who knew him that he was upset, "it's getting late. Think I'mma turn in. We have Quidditch practice in the morning anyway." He tried to keep his face hidden as he shifted on the bed, pulling his blanket up to show he was serious. He felt a few traitorous tears escape his eyes, rolling into his hair. His face felt hot with emotion, but he tucked the blanket up to his chin nevertheless, damning himself for being such a wimp.

Fred sighed heavy and over-dramatic. He stood just long enough to flip onto his own bed. The silence between them was deafening as Fred stared at his brother's back, worried. At long last, he spoke, reaching over to snuff the lantern he kept by his bed, "G'night, Georgie."

George stiffened at the brotherly endearment, replying with a barely-audible "G'night" and snuffed his own lantern, dousing the room in sudden darkness.


	3. Jealousy

Chapter Three: Jealousy

The next morning dawned bright as frost-bitten Gryffindors lined up on the Quidditch field, brooms in hand as they waited for practice to start. George had done his best to avoid Fred and Alicia that morning, his stomach still churning with jealousy as he glared daggers at them from a distance. The pair chatted conversationally about sport brooms and the weather. His glares went unnoticed by Alicia who, at the moment, was giggling hysterically at something Fred had said.

George felt his chest tighten as he watched them, his eyes darkening slightly while emotion and hormones clouded his mind. He told himself to focus on the task ahead, work it all out on the Bludgers, and get over it. When Alicia giggled for a second time, he felt himself getting angry.

Fred had spotted his brother glaring at them and glared back. He wasn't sure why George was even mad at him, but it wasn't like Fred Weasley to back down, even from a pointless fight. It was almost as if George was jealous. The realization sparked a little smirk from Fred and he leaned close, whispering in Alicia's ear. He locked his eyes on his twin as Alicia ducked her head, dark pigtails swinging against her chest. Her cheeks brightened to a deep red as she shuffled closer to take his hand shyly.

George scoffed, noting the contrast of Fred's pale hand against her dark one. He felt his blood boil and forced himself to look away. It was then that a tall, thin woman with spiked grey hair and piercing yellow eyes came onto the field. She carried a box containing the practice balls and two well-worn bats. Setting the equipment down, she motioned for the Beaters to grab their bats.

Fred dropped Alicia's hand, walking over at the same time as George. The rest of the team took their places in the icy air, each on their own broom, as they waited.

"How's Alicia?" George asked, his voice a low growl of jealousy as he leaned down, grabbing a wooden bat from beside the box.

"Oh, she's good," Fred replied, shooting a dazzling smile toward his twin and grabbing his own bat. "Really good." He winked, his smile turning to an all-out grin as George's face flushed red with anger.

George huffed, spinning on his heel and mounting his broom, taking off into the sky, leaving Fred in his wake.

Fred hesitated a moment before joining the team, convinced he'd found the reason for his brother's puzzling behavior over the past day.

Professor Hooch lowered her signature goggles and blew her whistle, releasing the Quaffle, Bludgers, and Snitch.

The twins shot into action, each going for a Bludger and swatting them with well-practiced swings as the balls hurtled around the field in erratic patterns. For the first few minutes of practice, they simply followed the bewitched balls across the field, swatting them from one end of the field to the other. It was a typical warm up for them before the Bludgers suddenly took off faster, hurtling toward the other members of the team in mimicry of a real game.

Fred followed his Bludger at high speed, dodging his team with skill as he tracked it toward the goal area to the north end of the field. It had aimed itself straight toward Katie Bell. He pulled in front of it, swinging his bat with a satisfying crack as the Bludger was sent flying away from the young Chaser.

He heard another crack and scanned the field until his eyes fell on George, about twenty feet away, darting in and out of the remaining two Chasers, and dodging the Seeker as he placed himself back in the path of his Bludger with time to spare.

George's hair was severely wind-blown, falling in havoc around his face. He caught Fred's eye for a moment, his sapphire orbs shooting from Fred to Alicia and back. Alicia flew near the opposing goal area, unguarded, motioning for the Quaffle to be passed to her, oblivious that she was in the sights of the young Beater. A dark grin crossed his freckled features and he gripped his bat tightly.

The realization that George intended to hit Alicia with the rogue Bludger hit Fred with the force of an earthquake and he felt sick. It had barely registered when his twin smacked the ball with all his might and sent it flying straight toward Alicia. He panicked, kicking his broom into gear and darting toward the target of George's attack at breakneck speed. He leaned forward, urging his broom to go as fast as it could, his hair, which he'd had the foresight to tie back, flew like fire behind him. He reached Alicia with a fraction of a second to spare, diving into the line of fire just in time to catch (not hit) the Bludger. He gasped as it made contact with his abdomen, his arms wrapping around it instinctively. The force of the impact threatened to knock him off the broom. His bat fell and he clenched his thighs around the handle, barely maintaining his balance as the ball struggled in his grip.

"TIME OUT!" Professor Hooch bellowed, her whistle piercing the air. She glared up at the Weasley twins from the ground, motioning for them to come down.

Fred glared at George with pure anger as they descended. Once their feet were on the ground, he handed over the ball, looking ashamed enough for both boys.

Professor Hooch quickly locked it away in the box and pulled the boys to the side of the field, speaking very low so none of their other teammates could hear her. "I don't know what that was," she began, waving her hand in a big circle toward the sky, "but I don't want to see any more of it during my practices. Got it, Mr. Weasley?" She punctuated her statement by yanking the remaining bat from George's hand.

"Sorry about this, Professor. George wasn't feeling well last night. Didn't sleep well and all that. It must have messed up his aim," Fred lied, a note of anger in his voice even as he covered for his brother. George's face turned pink and he shuffled his feet, digging the toe of his shoe into the dirt before nodding apologetically.

Professor Hooch sighed, dropping her head for a minute before checking her watch. Practice had only been going for fifteen minutes. They usually went for an hour. "Well, I'll let it slide just this once since you're not feeling well," she said, again speaking to George.

George nodded, gratefully. "Sorry, ma'am. Won't happen again."

"I should think not…" she murmured, her yellow eyes giving him a sidelong glance before she blew the whistle again, calling the rest of the team down.

Alicia still looked shaken by the near miss with the Bludger. She made a point of standing near Fred, casting adoring eyes on him as Professor Hooch spoke. "We're going to continue today's practice without Bludgers or Beaters. Chasers, I want you to practice passing, scoring goals, and working around the Seeker and Snitch, got it?" Everyone murmured their assent before going back to practice. Fred and George stared in wonder, waiting for an explanation.

"You two are done for now." She looked at George, "Get to feeling better and I'll see you tomorrow morning. I'll let your other Professors know you'll be out today." She turned and addressed Fred then, "You too." He started to protest, but she held her hand up to silence him. "You need to make sure he stays in bed and rests up. A sleep deprived Beater puts everyone in danger."

Fred sighed, nodding stiffly before he and George started off the field toward the castle. As they walked, George took note of the measurable distance between them and felt his heart sink with regret.


	4. Crossing Lines

**Author's Notes: I'm several chapters ahead of where I figured I'd be so I'm breaking my schedule of updating once a week to give you 2 new chapters this week! I'll be updating at least once a week, but if I feel like it, I'll try to give you guys extra chapters here and there.  
So, quick preface here... ever been so stressed by a situation you just snapped? Yeah... Me too...  
****Enjoy!**

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Chapter Four: Crossing Lines

The moment they entered their room, Fred rounded on George, bowing up as anger radiated off of him. "What the hell was that?!" he asked, practically shouting.

George simply stared at him.

Fred met his gaze, challenging him to say or do something, anything. It was George that looked away first, running a hand through his hair and sighing.

"'M sorry…" he muttered.

Fred scoffed, mockingly. "What? Sorry? Sorry? Oh… okay. You're sorry. I guess that makes it alright then?!" he fumed, clenching his jaw. "Why the fuck would you even do that, George?! She's on our team and you're just gonna take her out with a Bludger? During practice? I mean, seriously! What is wrong with you?!"

George's head snapped up, eyes locking on Fred's. His expression conveyed pure venom beneath the surface, taking some of the wind out of Fred's sails. "What's wrong with me?" The question somehow sounded dangerous coming from George.

"Yeah!" Fred shouted, leaning down and searching his face. "What's wrong with you?" His tone turned accusatory and mocking as he went on, standing back to his full height. "What? You jealous or something?"

George scoffed, a smirk crossing his pale lips as he felt something in him snap and take over. "Yeah, actually…" Fred suddenly felt his confidence waver as George's eyes darkened, taking on a deep azure hue. George stood, moving toward his twin with a predatory look in his eye. "I am." The intensity of his glare made Fred take a step back as his twin stepped forward.

Step for step, George moved forward as Fred backed up, feeling his heart hammer in his chest. His back hit the wall and George stepped forward again. He'd never seen George like this before and it sent a jolt of panic through him. Panic and something else… Something he couldn't quite place yet. He felt his breath come up short as George closed the space between them, coming close enough that Fred could feel his breath brushing at his face with all the intensity of an open flame. He braced himself, flinching when George's hand slammed into the wall beside his head. He was going to yell or hit him or something. When nothing else happened, he chuckled nervously, releasing a breath he hadn't known he'd been holding.

"Look, man, I like Alicia and all, but she's not worth fighting over," Fred stated, holding his hands up defensively.

George let his smile burst into a full grin at that, his eyes still dark as he pushed his chest up against Fred's palms. He liked seeing Fred like this, scared and nervous, wondering what was going to happen next. It wasn't something he'd known he liked, but he did.

"No… she's not," he agreed, leaning closer still. He felt his hormones surge as Fred gasped quietly at the lack of space, his eyes wide, brimming with confusion. "You are." George finished brushing his lips across Fred's with a feather light touch.

Fred's eyes grew wider still, surprise flooding his face in an amazingly innocent expression that did nothing to halt George's advances. Fred felt his breath hitch in his throat the moment George's lips ghosted across his. His brother had kissed him. He knew he should push George away, punch him, something, anything, but his body refused to cooperate. Instead, it responded in a way he hadn't anticipated, a bolt of electricity jumping through his body and straight to his groin.

When Fred failed to push him away, George came undone, attacking Fred like a man possessed. He locked his mouth onto his twin's, a low growl escaping his throat. Years of repressed desire, devotion, love, and lust pulsed through him, urging him on.

Fred felt his eyes start to flutter shut, surprise mixing with desire, as George's tongue ran along his bottom lip, seeking entrance and sending another shot of electricity through him. Somewhere in his mind, he knew his body was betraying him, reacting unconsciously to every touch as George's hands scoured his body in frenzied motions, unsure of where they were going. His mouth moved on its own, yielding to the kiss and his lips parted, allowing George in with a soft moan.

George wasted no time deepening the kiss, his tongue darting into Fred's mouth, dancing across every part of it with a satisfying moan. He pressed his weight against Fred, pushing him harder against the unrelenting wall behind him.

Their tongues danced together for a while until they had to break away for much-needed air. George had pressed his body up against Fred's and at some point his wandering hands had found what they were looking for, one planted on his brother's hip, while the other found its way to the small of his back, his thumb running small circles on his spine in a way that seemed to kindle a fire deep in the pit of Fred's stomach.

George dipped his head, his hair creating a curtain around his face as he planted a trail of kisses down Fred's neck and eliciting a small, honest to god whimper from the elder twin. He answered with a tiny purr.

Every sound he pulled from Fred was music to his ears. He kissed and nibbled every freckle he could find on the exposed flesh until he found the pulse point at the base of his neck. George sucked lightly at the sensitive spot, feeling the heartbeat against his mouth, fast and erratic, earning a low moan.

Fred arched into it the feeling of his twin's mouth on him and George became painfully aware of the fact that Fred had pressed himself against his thigh, revealing how much he was enjoying the attention his body was receiving. He relished the salty-sweet taste of Fred's skin as he began kissing his way back up Fred's neck, licking lightly at his ear lobe and earning a shiver.

He pulled back slightly, taking in the sight of Fred, pink-faced with arousal, his head pressed against the wall as his lips parted, whining in protest. He gasped shallow, labored breaths and his hands had scrambled to wrap themselves in George's practice jersey with a white-knuckled grip as if he was worried he'd collapse at any minute. He was beautiful.

"God… I love you…" George hadn't meant to say it. It was a barely-audible utterance in the heat of the moment, but it was true nonetheless. He leaned in, claiming Fred's mouth again, but it was the sound of George's voice shooting through him and the feel of his mouth, hot and wet and so like his own, but different, that brought Fred's brain back to life. His eyes snapped open and as quickly as he'd been pinned to the wall, he found himself shoving George back. He breathed heavily through his nose as he glared down at George who, despite his best effort to catch himself, had landed painfully on the floor.

Tears pricked the eldest twin's eyes as he stood over George, staring him down. His mind took note of his kiss-swollen lips, his hair, falling like fire around his face, still messy and wind-blown from practice. His cheeks were tinted with a brilliant shade of pink beneath his freckles. It was George's eyes, however, that said it all. They stared, wide and confused, pleading silently with his twin, begging him to understand. George's pupils were dilated with lust, rimmed only by the thinnest hint of clear blue.

Fred's stomach churned with a mixture of arousal and shame at the sight. When he finally spoke, his voice was weak and shaky.

"What the fuck? Was that some kind of joke?" It wasn't what he'd wanted to say.

George shook his head, too stunned to speak.

"You're sick."

George flinched, his face brightening to crimson as he lowered his head. Fred hadn't meant to be so harsh, but the words came on their own, reflecting how he felt about himself in that moment.

Seeing George's reaction made him want to cry. It made him want to hold his brother, apologize for having said it, and tell him it was okay and he would try to understand. Instead, he stormed out, slamming the door to the room and leaving George blinking back tears as the words hung heavy in the air, ringing in his ears.

_You're __sick__._

His body shook violently as he began to sob. Whatever had made him so bold had been knocked out of him when he hit the ground and, suddenly, he felt the full gravity of what had happened.

Was he sick? Was he wrong?

George knew all about taboos. He knew that his love for Fred was considered one of the worst. He'd promised himself he wouldn't act on it. He'd decided being near Fred was enough. He told himself he'd bury his love so deep down it could never surface.

His own jealousy had betrayed him and now he sat alone, his body collapsing on itself as he wept in the wake of his first and only kiss. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip, the taste of Fred lingered as bitter tears ran down his face. He prayed, in that moment, for the Earth to open up and swallow him. He knew he'd crossed a line and he could never go back now.


	5. Image in the Mirror

**Author's Notes: This is a more Fred-centric chapter as we get a little inside his head and how he's feeling about everything. I plan to switch off as I feel necessary so that we get both sides of this story as much as possible. Of course, this makes the story a little harder to write, but I feel I'm up for the challenge and hope you're all rooting me on. :) **

**Anyway, time for a quick explanation before I get called out on this: in this fic, the Mirror of Erised (which I didn't call by name, but we all know it) shows the viewer what they ****should**** know, as well as their heart's desire. ****This chapter is also a bit longer than my others, though I'm sure none of you will mind much. ;) **

**Enjoy!**

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Chapter Five: Image in the Mirror

Fred walked at a brisk pace out of the Gryffindor common room, his mind racing as he blinked back tears. He glared down one end of the corridor, then the other, looking for anywhere that might lead him to seclusion. Seeing nothing of the kind, he made an executive decision, heading down the left corridor. He paused in front of a tapestry depicting Barnabas the Barmy attempting to teach a group of trolls ballet.

He walked on, stopping after only two steps and turning. He started back toward the painting of the Fat Lady that was the door to the common room. Five steps in and he turned again, backtracking once more.

Up and down the hall he paced, continuing his pattern several more times, his mind chasing its tail as he found himself muttering, " Need to get away... find somewhere to think. Somewhere to be alone and figure this all out... Gotta get away. Gotta get away." Fred could hear himself chanting the last part like a mantra.

He was about to give up and head outside for some air, which he felt he was severely lacking at that moment, when he noticed a door that he swore hadn't been there before. He stared at it in confusion before yanking it open.

On the other side of the mystery door was a small room. It held only the plainest of furniture: a hideous, mustard-colored sofa sized for two and aged oak end tables. The dark, stone floor was blanketed by a plush, beige rug lying in front of an ancient fireplace. Fred was delighted to find a fire already radiating warmth through the room. He noticed that directly in front of him stood a full-length, antique mirror. It was surprisingly beautiful, looking quite out of place.

Fred had never seen this room before, which was surprising since he and George had made it their mission to discover every room and passage the castle had to offer, even ones they knew were off limits to students. He let out a sigh and entered the room cautiously as the door shut behind him. The past couple of years had been kind of strange (to say the least) since Harry Potter had arrived at Hogwarts and he was loathe to trust any unknown room.

He stepped further into the room, nearly jumping out of his skin when he caught his reflection in the mirror, mistaking it for George for a split second. Suddenly, all worry about the strange room was forgotten as he locked eyes with his reflection, stepping closer.

"Why, Georgie?" he asked the mirror, fingertips brushing the glass. He felt his eyes prick with tears as his mind forced him to take in what had happened.

.~*~.

"_I've got a date!"_

"… _Who…?"_

"_Why can't you just be happy for me, George!"_

"_I'm sure Alicia's a nice girl and… I'm happy for you."_

"_What's __wrong __with you?! You jealous or something?"_

"_Yeah, actually… I am."_

"… _she's not worth fighting over."_

"_No… she's not. You are. God… I love you…"_

"_Was that some kind of joke? You're __sick__."_

.~*~.

Fred was stunned to see tears falling down his face in the mirror. How long had these feelings been dwelling inside of George? How had he missed it? How many times had he been unintentionally cruel to his twin? How many times had he broken his heart or stirred his jealousy without meaning to?

His face had turned red as he recalled how George had lit up when they worked on their inventions together, lavishing his ideas with praise, no matter how dumb they were at the time. He could recall countless occasions where a simple brush of his hand to his twin's caused George to pull back, his ears lighting up pink as he turned away. He remembered teasing George about how easily he blushed, scooting closer just to see him squirm. He'd never questioned whether or not George loved him, but it had never occurred to him that he was in love with him. He never realized…

The mirror rippled slightly, startling him back to reality as it settled. In the mirror was shown an image of two boys, five years old, red-haired and freckle-faced and laughing hysterically as they were sent to the corner together, holding hands. Fred barely remembered being that young, but he was sure it was him and George.

As quickly as it had come, the scene faded and a new image came into view. It was the same boys, six years later on a summer morning. One boy sat, crying on the bed while the other wrapped a sympathetic arm around his shoulder. Fred saw his young face contorted with anger as his elder brother, Percy Weasley, stood over the pair. He held his head high and arrogant.

This scene Fred remembered. It was when he'd punched Percy for yelling at George and making him cry. He couldn't help the swell of pride that rose in him as he remembered. He'd always made it his mission to protect George.

On cue, the one he recognized as a younger version of himself stood, a head shorter than Percy at the time. He wasted no time mincing words, instead opting to land a mean right hook to their older brother's eye. While Percy yelled, holding his quickly swelling eye, he'd simply went back to George, smiling, letting him know it was all okay now. Eleven year old George smiled back gratefully then leaned up and planted a soft kiss on Fred's cheek.

Presently, Fred's stomach fluttered as again the scene faded, bringing into view a more recent scene of him and George. They were walking through the Hogwarts Express. It was just a few months ago. The train had stopped suddenly with dementors descending on all sides of the train. One had even boarded the train. Fred had almost fainted as cold flooded him, sucking all happiness and joy out of him, but George had stood strong, wrapping himself around Fred to block him from the soul-suckers.

Fred shuddered. He'd seen dementors guarding the school since they arrived, but none had come close enough since the train for him to feel their presence. He'd never questioned why George had protected him. He was just glad he had.

The mirror rippled again, smoothing itself to show a simple image of the boys leaned up against the wall of their room at Hogwarts, as George kissed Fred lovingly, their lips barely touching.

Fred brushed his fingers along his bottom lip, soft and feather light, and shivered.

As if its point was made, the mirror cleared and Fred saw his own reflection staring back at him, sad-eyed and pink-faced. At least he'd thought it was his reflection until it looked away, tears falling freely. No, it wasn't him at all. It was an image of George.

He let himself sink to his knees, refusing to look away from the mirror as hot tears slid down his face, unchecked.

"_You're __sick__."_

He hadn't meant to say it, but he did... The words had been meant for himself. He'd meant to shame himself for enjoying the kiss and giving in to the narcissistic arousal he'd felt in the moment, but most of all for not realizing that George loved him so much.

"_God… I love you…" _

The words ran through his head, George's voice echoing them in a torturous way as the image in the mirror refused to look at him, its sapphire eyes closing as more tears slipped down his cheeks. Fred's chest tightened painfully as a sob ripped itself from his throat. He dropped his forehead to the rug, his body crumpled and shaking as he cried freely. He remembered the look of confusion in George's lust-blown eyes. He'd been asking him, wordlessly, to understand. Begging him not to push him away or be cruel. Still, his reaction had been quick and sharp; cutting George down before he even had a chance to explain.

Fred made a choked sound, balling his fists into the rug. He wanted to tell George he understood. He understood all too well. He'd always seen George as more than a brother… as more than his twin. He'd loved George for as long as he could remember, taking comfort in George's sweet, gentle nature, so different from his own. He had told himself that if he could bury his feelings, use them to protect George without ever letting him know the truth, that was okay. The truth was there, though. It was in what the mirror had shown him; in the things he missed and should have known.

He'd known he had feelings for George for as long as he could remember, but had never told a soul. He knew it could never be, and swore he'd grow up, move on, and date nice girls; girls like Alicia Spinnet. He was setting himself on a path to forget and now… now he didn't know what to do. He didn't know how the mirror knew or why it had so brutally slapped him in the face with the very thing he'd been trying to hide for so many years, but it did. It showed him just how much George loved him. How much he loved George.

But they were brothers. Fred had decided even that would probably not be such a big deal if there were a way to hide that fact once they were adults, but God had cursed them and made them identical twins. There was no hiding it. They could never hide it and no society in the world would smile on their being together.

Yes, Fred Weasley was in love with George and for this reason, and so many others, Fred cried freely for the first time in years as he let go of his denial in the safety of the small, stone-walled room. Wave after wave the tears washed through him until he'd cried himself dry and his head ached.

When he looked up, the mirror was blank save his own reflection, red-eyed and weary in the firelight of the small room. Only one thought crossed his mind, then, '_Make it right._'

When Fred finally left the little room it was late evening. The sky outside the arched castle windows was splashed in hues of pink and orange. He took a moment to appreciate the beauty of it before he made his way back into the Gryffindor common room.

He paused at the bottom of the boy's dormitory stairs, wondering what he would say to George. How was he going to make this right?

He took a deep breath, trying to build his courage, when a small hand grabbed his shoulder, causing him to jump.

"He's asleep."

Fred looked down at the girl who'd spoken. Chocolate eyes appraised him critically as the girl tucked a strand of bushy, chestnut hair behind her ear. "I said George is asleep, so be sure not to wake him," she repeated.

Fred nodded, noticing for the first time that she was standing on the step in front of him. His stomach turned as he put two and two together and came to the conclusion she'd just come from their room. He cleared his throat, biting back his jealousy at the thought of George and this girl being alone together in their room. "Thanks, Hermione. How is he?"

She shrugged, casually, pushing past him with a side-long glance. "Upset about something, but he refuses to talk about it… Whatever it is must have been pretty bad, though," she shook her head sadly, "I've never seen him cry that much."

Shame colored Fred's face as he avoided looking at her. "Y-yeah… there was an incident this morning-"

"During Quidditch practice," she finished for him.

He nodded. Hermione Granger seemed to know everything about everything and apparently schoolhouse gossip was no different.

"Yeah, everyone's heard about that. Somehow I don't think that's it, though." Fred could hear the question in her voice, but chose to ignore it. When it was obvious he wasn't going to explain, she went on, "Either way, he's pretty exhausted now, so please," she gave him a wilting glare, "don't wake him up."

Fred nodded again. Somewhere inside, he felt undying gratitude for Hermione's presence but it was tainted by never-ending jealousy as he forced the fact she'd been alone with George to the back of his mind.

"I won't," he promised. "Thanks, 'Mione."

He started up the stairs, but was stopped once more.

"Tea bags," Hermione said, her tone bossy and commanding.

Fred furrowed his brow, slightly amused. "Coffee Pots," he retorted, feeling his sense of humor flare for the first time all day. It was a welcome feeling.

Hermione sighed and shook her head. "No, silly. Tea bags," she said again, reaching up, gingerly, running her thumb under his left eye. He reached up and felt the puffiness in his face, most notably around his eyes. It was a dead give away he'd been crying just as much, if not more, than George. "It will help."

Fred could feel his face grow hot, embarrassment flooding him. "Is it that bad? That obvious?"

She shrugged, sitting primly in an overstuffed chair. "You should get some rest," was all she said. He swallowed hard, nodding.

Fred was exceptionally careful to be quiet as he entered the room. He held his breath unconsciously as he tip-toed past George's sleeping form, freezing momentarily when his twin stirred, waiting for him to settle again. Once he was sure he was safe, he quickly and quietly changed clothes and slipped into bed, grateful they wouldn't have to face each other until morning. Still, he couldn't resist whispering a tiny "Sorry, Georgie" across the room before letting himself drift off into a fitful sleep.


	6. Temper Tantrums

**Author's Notes: Ok, guys, I'm way, way, way ahead of where I figured I'd be writing this so you're getting more frequent updates so I stay (hopefully) no more than five chapters ahead at a time. (I just finished writing chapter 11! 0.0)**

**Anyway, here you go and sorry if I'm updating too fast for some of you… not intentional. Then again, I know some of you are dying to know what's gonna happen next and, well, I have a hard time making you wait. ;)**

**Now, I want to apologize in advance for making Fred kind of a dick, but, honestly, taking into account how quickly his life has spiraled out of control and the temper I've given him, combined with the raging hormones of a fifteen year old boy… can ya blame me? Yeah… on second thought, don't answer that. Either way, it helps with the drama and moves the story along. I swear he won't always be like this, so just bear with me. **

**I appreciate everyone who reads my fics and adore all of your reviews so I can't wait to hear your reactions. *evil laugh* Enjoy!**

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Chapter Six: Temper Tantrums

Fred woke early the following morning to find George's bed empty and made, looking for all the world as if no one had ever slept in it. It was the first sign that something major had changed between the Weasley twins. He'd hoped that it had been a misunderstanding. Or maybe just a dream like so many he'd had of George since the onset of puberty. The empty bed forced him to face the truth, though. It wasn't a dream and George had made a point of leaving without him. He was going to try to avoid Fred, that much was obvious.

Fred sighed, heavily. Normally George would wake him so they could go down for breakfast together He couldn't even remember the last time they'd had breakfast without each other. Even when Fred had gotten sick testing their Fever Fudge, George had spent the next three days taking meals in their room so that Fred wouldn't have to eat alone.

Fred wasted no time jumping out of bed and hurrying to get dressed. He took just enough time as was absolutely necessary to make sure he looked somewhat presentable before racing through the castle to the Grand Hall.

He was relieved to find that breakfast had just started and a quick scan of the room revealed George sitting at the far end of the Gryffindor table, his back to the door as he sat slumped over his food.

He took a deep breath, his heart pounding as he watched George's back, willing him to turn around and take notice. The telepathic message fell flat, however, and he found himself unable to move forward, his feet glued to the floor while his legs felt heavy and numb from nerves. A cold sweat had broken out on his palms and he could tell, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he wasn't breathing quite right. His mind raced with the millions of ways he could start the conversation that needed to be had, but none of them seemed quite right.

How do you approach a situation like this? How do you start up a conversation of this magnitude? In public, no less?! Surely a casual _"Morning, George,"_ just wouldn't work, but Fred lacked any better ideas considering how packed the hall was. He swallowed the panic rising in his throat and ran a shaky hand through his hair. Either way, he couldn't let George get away and avoid him. He wanted to talk to his brother as soon as possible, though he wasn't at all sure what he'd say or how he'd explain himself.

Before he was able to take even a step forward, he spotted Hermione seated directly across from George at the long table. Fred shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he noticed her large, chocolate eyes boring into him over the top of a book. She flicked her eyes at George for a second and shook her head as subtly as possible behind her book. The message was as clear as if she'd said it aloud.

"_Not here."_

Despite her attempts at subtlety, George had glanced up just in time to catch the look of panic and warning flicker through her eyes as she shook her head.

"Wha-?" He glanced over his shoulder, following her eyes. When he saw Fred, his face immediately flushed hot and red with embarrassment. He turned back around, burying his face in his hands. "Dammit…" he grumbled, wishing now he had just opted to skip breakfast.

Hermione sighed, her bushy brows furrowed in concern. "I'll take care of this," she said, patting George's shoulder.

George simply shook his head, unable to argue beyond that. He watched with horror as Hermione gathered her books, dumping them into her shoulder bag unceremoniously. When she met his eyes again, her expression was soft and caring. "Don't worry," she said, trying to soothe him as she touched his shoulder lightly.

Fred narrowed his eyes as he watched the young brunette brush George's shoulder, speaking to him. He wasn't sure what she'd said to his brother, but he didn't like the way she looked at him, her eyes reflecting the softness and affection he wished he could show. Emotional connections had always been hard for Fred, despite his overwhelming charisma and confidence.

She stood, grabbing her bags and headed toward him at a fevered pace. "Fred," she greeted him with a stiff nod.

"What?" he asked, his voice cold. He found himself unable to ignore the fact she was blocking his way to the table. To George.

"He's still upset," she said in a lowered tone, giving him a stern look as if to say _"Leave him alone."_

"I need to talk to him," Fred stated, simply, attempting to move past her.

She shook her head, taking a step back and blocking him again. "I don't think that's such-" Before she could finish, Fred was talking over her, his temper flaring in frustration.

"I need to talk to George," he repeated, a tone of warning lacing the words. He tried once more to move past her, but this time she held her hand up, pressing it lightly to his chest. She shook her head again.

"I really don't think that's such a good idea."

It was well known that all the Weasleys had a bit of a temper, but, despite his laid back sense of humor, Fred's fuse was by far the shortest in the bunch. He couldn't stop himself, then, jealousy hitting him full force, egged on by his frustration at her insistence on interfering. He found his voice coming out louder than intended, nearly yelling.

"That's the problem, isn't it? You're always thinking and sticking your nose where it damn well doesn't belong!"

The room fell to a hushed silence as heads turned.

George turned, his face unreadable as he swallowed hard, watching the pair. His eyes radiated anxiety, but he tried to stay calm. He knew Fred's temper all too well and his foul-mouthed older twin was not one to be trifled during one of his moods.

Hermione furrowed her brow, her expression torn between angry and hurt. "Don't speak to me like that. I'm just trying to help."

Fred leaned down, nose to nose with her and glared. "Really appreciate that, love, but right now you can help by butting the hell out. This is between me and George," he growled.

George was on his feet now, making his way over to the pair before he even realized he was moving. By now Fred and Hermione were drawing a small crowd and George had to push his way through to see what was going on.

"Why do you need to talk to him right now? Didn't you upset him enough yesterday?" It was more of an accusation than a question and Fred puffed up defensively at her tone, his blood reaching its boiling point. "He doesn't want to talk to you."

By now George had made his way through the crowd and stood on the inner edge of the ring they'd formed around the pair. He watched Fred talk down to the third year Gryffindor, his stomach turning to know that they were fighting because of him.

"You don't know anything about what's going on here," Fred informed her.

"I know enough to know that you're the reason George was so upset," she replied, crossing her arms. "And I was there for him when you weren't." There was no missing the pride in her voice as she jerked her head up, tossing her hair.

Fred eyed her, anger and jealousy pulsing through him like he'd never felt before. If she hadn't been a girl, he would have laid her out right then and there for her arrogance alone. The insinuation that he'd somehow abandoned George when he was needed only added insult to injury, fueling the fire to dangerous proportions.

"You don't know anything. You stupid little git, you think that one night of playing doctor with him means anything? Think he'll notice you now?"

Hermione's eyes widened, her face turning a vibrant shade of rose as she slowly uncrossed her arms, suddenly aware of the crowd. "I... I... uh..." Words were lost to her which, for Hermione Granger, was a rare occurrence.

"'S wrong, 'Mione?" Fred asked, teasingly, a cruel smile creeping to his lips. "Didn't want anyone to know about your little crush?"

Hermione blinked furiously, holding back the unshed tears in her eyes as she held her head high. A few students from Slytherin had begun to snicker, enjoying the drama unfolding before them. Others simply whispered amongst themselves, wondering what the fight was about or taking bets on how long it would be before Hermione slapped Fred.

"That's enough, Fred!" George's voice rang out above the crowd as he stepped forward, pushing Hermione behind him protectively. He'd watched as much as he could handle. "Leave her alone," he ordered.

Fred's smile faded.

"Leave her alone," George repeated, making sure Fred heard him.

Fred scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Sure thing, Georgie, but we need to talk," he stated, glaring at Hermione as she peeked around George's side. She rested her fingertips tentatively on the back of George's arm. George moved to block her from view again as he nodded stiffly, his narrowed eyes cutting through his twin.

"Without your little girlfriend."

It was George's turn to scoff. "What's wrong, Freddie? You jealous or something?" he asked, mimicking the same mocking tone Fred had used to push him over the edge the day before. The same one he'd used to embarrass Hermione only moments before.

Fred growled low in his throat, springing into action as hormones and anger took over. He felt his hand fly, his fist clenched tightly, as he connected a sharp blow to the left side of George's face somewhere along the jaw line.

The crowd took in a collective gasp as the Slytherins amongst them cheered, grateful to finally see some action. One group, undoubtedly led by Draco Malfoy, cheered the loudest, raising their glasses in celebration of the first punch being thrown.

George rubbed his jaw, glaring sideways at Fred, his hair falling into his eyes as they glinted maliciously. He wasted no time returning the favor, catching Fred's jaw with his knuckles.

The crowd around them cheered again.

Fred fell sideways, barely catching himself. He was stunned. George had never hit anyone that he could recall and, somehow, he hadn't expected it. He caught sight of smoldering azure eyes locked on him in a predatory stare through the curtain of fire that was George's hair. Against his will, he felt a flutter of fear and arousal rise in the pit of his stomach, his mind reminding him of what that stare had led to the previous day. His head spun a little, rattled by the force of the punch and before he could recover enough to react, he felt something hit him around the middle. He found himself flat on his back, his head bouncing painfully off the stone floor causing his vision to white out for a moment.

George hadn't given any warning before tackling Fred to the ground. He saw his opening and took it, rage, regret, and rejection fueling his every move. His throbbing jaw was a painful reminder that he hadn't started this fight, but he fully intended to finish it. He scrambled into position on top of Fred, fist raised and ready. His freckled face was contorted by anger and pain as he brought a third blow down hard across the left side of Fred's face again. Fred's lip split seamlessly under the force of the punch, drawing blood.

The resounding crack of George's fist making contact drove another wild cheer out of the crowd, but he barely heard them above the sound of his own heartbeat thumping loudly in his ears. He readied himself to strike again when he felt someone grab his wrist.

"THAT IS ENOUGH, MR. WEASLEY!"

George's head snapped up, his nostrils flaring at the interruption. His anger quickly dissipated as he found himself face to face with Minerva McGonagall. She gave him a withering look, her emerald eyes searing into him as her thin lips set her expression in an unmistakable scowl.

George swallowed hard, slowly standing and moving away from Fred. He suddenly felt all of the fifteen-year-old that he was, diminished under her glare. He was in trouble and he knew it.

The Head of Gryffindor spared him one last cutting look before helping Fred up, taking his face tenderly in her hands and tilting it this way and that to examine his wounds.

Fred winced when she prodded the cut in his lip with a bony finger. It had started to bleed profusely, shiny crimson drops rolling down his chin to the floor, and he noted the gut-wrenching metallic taste in his mouth with a frown. He and George had matching bruises forming along their jaws from the first punches and Fred was sporting a large bump on the back of his head from hitting the floor.

Turning to the crowd, Professor McGonagall glared. "Why are you all here? Breakfast is over! Get to class! NOW!" She waved them all past the twins, including Hermione who shot George a sorrowful look, her face still pink from embarrassment.

Making sure the Great Hall was empty, Professor McGonagall turned back to them, handing Fred a napkin from a nearby table. "In all my years as Head of House, a fight between Gryffindors has never been tolerated!" She set them with a stony stare as if expecting them to explain, though she continued without giving them a chance, "I will be taking ten points from Gryffindor for this and you two," she jabbed a bony finger at each of them, "will serve detention with Mr. Filch this evening. Until then, I suggest you get to class and stay out of trouble. Avoid each other if you have to. Any more fisticuffs on my watch and I won't be so lenient!" The implication was clear: expulsion was on the table.

George shuddered at the thought of facing their mother if they were expelled. He could hear Fred mumbling an apology as Professor McGonagall turned, clicking the heels of her boots and left, grumbling about teenagers and temper tantrums. George spared a guilt-filled glance at Fred before following her.

Fred was left half-dazed and alone in the empty hall. He tried to figure out how everything had spiraled out of control so quickly, but the more he tried to think about it, the more his head pounded, shutting him down. He knew this had all been his fault. There was no denying that.

Dropping his head, his eyes landing on the small drops of his own blood that spattered the floor and groaned, "Fuck me..."


	7. Detention

Chapter Seven: Detention

There were few things at Hogwarts that were as unbearable to a fifteen year old witch or wizard at Hogwarts as detention with Argus Filch. The pale-eyed old Squib was known to be a fan of making students do manual labor during detention while he sat back, petting his cat, Mrs. Norris, laughing at their suffering. Add to that the annoyance of Peeves the Poltergeist lurking around and you had a situation most students would break their left arm to avoid.

This is how the Weasley twins felt as they met Filch outside of their common room that evening. They had spent the whole day (after having their wounds tended and healed) avoiding each other in class, which was nearly impossible since they'd opted to sit together in every class, and now they waited in uncomfortable silence to find out what their fight in the Great Hall would cost them.

When Filch finally arrived, he came carrying two buckets and toothbrushes, a sadistic smile on his face. He turned, leading them a ways down the left corridor.

"Ready, boys?" he asked, his pale eyes dancing with amusement in the light of his lantern. They both nodded slowly as Filch set the buckets down. They were full of soapy water. He then handed them each a toothbrush and gestured to the floor. "Since I had to scrub your disgusting blood off the floor this morning, you'll be scrubbing this corridor," he informed them. "Before sunrise, I want to see these floors sparkle."

They each looked at the toothbrushes in their hands and then each other with a sigh. Fred looked up and down the hall appraisingly. The corridor was wide enough for four students to stand across comfortably and four times as long. The task of scrubbing it to a shine with only toothbrushes was impossible. It was almost certain that the tediousness of the task was designed to not only punish them, but also to drive them mad.

There had to be a way out of this… if only he could find it. His eyes fell on the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and it took every ounce of control he had to keep his face set on "miserable" as his heart jumped happily in his chest. He'd forgotten about the mysterious room he'd stumbled on until now.

"Well, what're you waiting for, boy?! Get to work!" Filch barked, snapping Fred to attention. He'd zoned out as the wheels in his head had started to turn, trying to think of a plan to distract Filch long enough to trigger the secret door. It was obvious Filch didn't want him thinking too much.

Fred was surprised to see George already on his hands and knees, scrubbing the toothbrush across the stone floor in furious lines. Guilt washed over him at the sight. George shouldn't have even been there. It was entirely his fault they'd gotten in a fight. It was his fault that they had detention. George shouldn't even be there, but there he was, scrubbing the floor like his life depended on it, like he just wanted to get it done as fast as possible.

Fred quickly dropped down, dipping his own brush in the soapy water and scrubbing at the thick layer of grime on the floor. It didn't take long for the boy's knees start to ache on the hard stone floor. Fred's back was radiating pain down through his hips and, from the way he kept rubbing his neck, George's shoulders had stiffened up enough to start hurting his neck. Filch cackled every time one of them showed a flicker of pain, enjoying the torture just as much as they were despising it.

After about an hour or so of mind-numbing work with no end in sight, Fred sat back on his heels. It was nearly ten 'o clock and they'd only cleaned an eighth of the corridor. The silence in the massive hall was deafening, broken only by the sound of Mrs. Norris' purring and the scratching of toothbrushes on stone.

Fred had started losing hope for a distraction as his mind drew one blank after another. He'd never had trouble coming up with ideas before, but this was different. He was cornered here, with no hope of being sneaky or not getting caught should he try something. Suddenly, a loud cackle rang through the halls followed by the sound of a suit of armor falling.

Relief flooded through the elder Weasley twin as another suit of armor crashed somewhere down stairs.

'_About time Peeves showed up!_' he thought, careful to hide the smile tugging at his lips as Mrs. Norris dashed toward the origin of the most recent sound and out of sight.

"Dammit, Peeves!" Filch bellowed, racing after his cat.

Once he was sure it was safe, Fred couldn't stop the grin on his face as he sprung to his feet. Peeves was only a temporary distraction and he knew it, but damned if he didn't adore the little pest at that moment. He let out a heart-felt chuckle then.

"Fred, what're you doing?" George hissed, looking around to make sure they were alone.

Fred grinned at him. "Getting us outta this," he stated, as if it were obvious. He tried to remember what he'd done the first time that could have summoned the door. He stood, staring at the wall for a minute before running his hands over where the door should be. He thought hard, almost hard enough to give himself a headache, as he tried to remember.

'_How did I get that damn door here?' _he wondered, frowning a little. His mind sparked as he remembered chanting, pacing the hall, thinking he needed a place where no one could find him - a place to think.

Nodding, he decided to try it again. "Gotta get away, somewhere we can't be found by anyone. Need the safe room," he said aloud.

"Safe room?" George asked, raising his eyebrows slightly.

Fred nodded fervently, walking back and forth in front of the tapestry in the middle of the corridor. Since he didn't know what the room was called (or even if it had a name, for that matter), he'd called it the "safe room". That's what he felt while he'd been there, crying for hours over George. Safe.

He was sure the spell on the room didn't require actual speech to activate, so he opted to concentrate on thinking it way into it, chanting in his head.

'_Need the safe room where no one can find us.'_ One pass in front of the tapestry. Nothing happened. He conjured up the best mental picture of the room he could and tried again.

'_Need the safe room where no one can find us,_' he thought again, passing in front of it a second time. Still nothing. He furrowed his brow in frustration, but was far from ready to give up.

George's eyes were glued to Fred with concern as if he'd gone insane. Fred could not have looked any loonier if he'd been a Muggle yelling "Open Sesame!" at the wall.

Fred just shot him a pseudo-confident smile and tried again. _'Need the safe room where no one can find us!' _He thought it so loud he wasn't completely sure he hadn't yelled it as he passed in front of the tapestry a third time.

George gasped, standing slowly as he gawked at the door that suddenly appeared in the wall opposite the tapestry. George's toothbrush fell, landing with a little tap at his feet. Fred grinned, his white teeth flashing in the dark corridor. He'd done it.

"Brilliant," he whispered, his heart fluttering with joy.

George blinked, unsure. "Fred… wha-?"

Fred held his hand up, silencing George. He snapped his head around, listening hard. He could hear Filch shuffling down a nearby corridor, his voice lined with anger at the "goddamned poltergeist". He was coming back toward them.

Fred swung the door to the room open and raced over to George, grabbing his hand and pulling. George resisted his face flushing.

"Hurry!" he whispered, holding out his hand. George hesitated. "Unless you wanna go back to scrubbing floors!"

George looked back at his abandoned toothbrush, feeling the ache in his knees and neck. He shook his head decisively. He did not want to go back to scrubbing floors, that much was certain. He took a deep breath, grabbing Fred's hand, and allowing himself to be pulled through the door. Fred shut it securely behind them.

Once inside, Fred relaxed, stretching his aching back muscles while he scanned the room, grateful to find it was the same one he'd found before. He waited while George took it in, his blue eyes flicking from the stone fireplace (a fire already burning brightly in the hearth) to the mustard-colored sofa and beige shag rug.

Fred frowned slightly when he noticed the mirror was gone, but didn't dwell on it. It would be foolish to assume he was the only one in the castle who knew about the room, or the mirror for that matter. It had probably just been moved. Still, the thought didn't raise much panic in him as he knew that opening the room was something not many people could have easily stumbled on or figured out. He'd only found it by chance, after all. It still felt so… safe. That in mind, he focused instead on George, waiting for a reaction.

George looked stunned and confused. "I thought we knew every secret room by now…" he said at last.

Fred laughed at the obvious wonder and confusion in his brother's voice. "Me too, but guess we were wrong, eh, Georgie?" Fred made his way to the sofa, flopping down happily in front of the fire, his head nestling into the couch cushions behind him.

George shifted uncomfortably at the term of endearment, opening his mouth to say something, but quickly shut it again, unsure of what to say. They hadn't spoken since that morning, if you could call their fights "speaking". Still, the sudden realization that they were all alone in a secret safe room hit him, bringing a crimson tint to his face as he watched Fred in the firelight.

His breath caught in his throat as the orange and red glow of the flames danced over Fred, highlighting his loose hair as it fell over the ugly yellow cushion under his head. In this light, his normally copper hair took on a darker auburn hue, making Fred no less attractive. If anything, it had the opposite effect. The fire danced over sparse freckles on Fred's face, making his skin glow warmly and giving his lips a rosy tint.

It was almost incomprehensible in George's mind that just that morning he had been straddling his brother, slamming a fist into that perfectly pretty face. He'd been ruled by overwhelming rage and rejection at the time, but still… As he traced the lines of Fred's lips with his eyes, all he could think about was how much he wanted to hold him, kiss him, and show him how much he loved him.

Fred rolled his head slightly, sapphire eyes almost glowing in the firelight as he studied George. "You okay, Georgie?" Fred asked, lifting his head as he studied his brother closely. He looked absolutely seductive in the glow of the flames.

George cursed under his breath and shook his head. "We should go back. Professor McGonagall is going to be mad," he whispered.

Fred frowned. "No way. Filch is a sadist. Besides, I'm sure if we just explain the punishment, Professor McGonagall would understand why we cut out early. I mean, toothbrushes? Seriously, that man has issues, even for a Squib!"

George didn't argue. He stood quietly, lowering his eyes and focusing intently on his feet. This is how they were for several minutes, neither one willing to push the other any further.

Fred stared at George.

George stared at his feet.

Neither one knew what to say or how to say it. They didn't want to fight anymore.

Finally, when the sound of the fire in the hearth just wasn't enough anymore, George cleared his throat, lifting his eyes.

"I'm sorry."

Fred sat up. His face flushed with guilt. "What?" _'Why are you sorry, George? This was my fault. Everything was my fault.' _He swallowed hard, unable to say the words. He waited for George to continue.

"I'm…" George's voice cracked with nervousness. He cleared his throat again. "I'm sorry," he repeated. "I… I shouldn't have…uh… attacked you."

Fred grinned, laughing a little as he rubbed his jaw. "'S okay, Georgie. I was being a dick. I woulda laid me out too."

George shook his head, suddenly interested in his feet again as the color rose in his face, spreading all the way to his ears. "I wasn't talking about that, though I shouldn't have hit you. I mean I shouldn't have attacked you… yesterday…"

Fred's eyes widened a little, realization hitting him. George wasn't sorry for hitting him. He was sorry for kissing him. Guilt washed over Fred's features as he found his eyes drawn to the fire. He watched the flames dance in the hearth, one running into the other before they separated again, forming individual pillars of red, yellow, orange, and blue before joining together again. The dance of the fire was hypnotizing, drawing him further in as he found his mind clearing. Only one thought rang clear in his mind as he watched the logs crumble to ash from the heat: _'Tell him.'_

His mouth moved on its own, forming the simplest response he could, "It's okay, George."

"Freddie?" George approached slowly, his hand brushing Fred's shoulder lightly.

Fred turned his head, his eyes clear and determined in the light of the dancing fire. "It's really okay," he said again, his voice thick with emotion. _'Tell him,'_ his mind urged silently, pushing at the flood of words and emotion that stalled on the tip of his tongue. Fred sighed, burying his face in his hands. He wondered if it had been this hard for George to approach him. He wondered if it had been this hard for George to convey his feelings. Probably not. George had never had the same problems displaying affection or talking about his feelings that Fred did.

George rested his hand on Fred's shoulder, the heat of his palm searing Fred through his school robe as he sat down on the ugly sofa, keeping as much distance between them as the tiny confines of the sofa would allow. He could practically see the war waging in his twin, though he didn't fully understand. "H-how?" George asked, his eyes narrowed in confusion. "How can it be okay? I mean… We're… I mean…" he trailed off, unable to say it out loud. He didn't need to.

_We're brothers…_

The unspoken words hung heavy in the air for a moment, sinking in. Finally, Fred sighed, raising his head and locking his eyes onto George's. "It's okay because there's something wrong with me."

He'd chosen his words wisely. George stared, unsure of the implication Fred was making, though his heart dared to hope. Tears welled in his eyes, but he held them back, held his heart in reserve for fear he was misunderstanding.

His voice shook as he gathered the nerve to ask, "What do you mean, Fred?"

Fred trembled, resting a hand on George's knee tenderly. George's eyes fixated on that hand, slightly larger than his with a faded burn scar from years ago etched across the back of it. Tiny differences that no one but George would have ever noticed.

The touch of Fred's hand was so distracting, more distracting than it should have been, that George didn't notice Fred leaning in until warm breath ghosted across his cheek, forcing his eyes back up. Blue on blue, identical eyes locked, searching each other for answers to all the unspoken questions between the brothers. George would have jumped back if their proximity hadn't glued him in place, holding him helpless in Fred's gaze.

"There's something wrong with me," Fred whispered again. He was so close George couldn't breathe.

"B… but… Alicia…" George said, leaning back a little.

"Fuck her," Fred whispered, smirking at the irony of the comment. He leaned forward, heart pounding with nervousness, brushing his lips to his George's. The kiss barely registered, just a feather-light brush of Fred's lips, but George felt it. His heart raced at hummingbird speed, his eyes growing wide with disbelief. The room felt like it spun around him and he caught himself clinging to the couch to keep his body grounded.

Fred pulled back a little, pressing his forehead to George's with a chuckle. "Can't you see that I'm sick too?"

The tears that had stood in his eyes finally fell as he let his ginger lashes fall closed, taking in a deep breath to steady himself. George was sure this was a dream, like so many others he'd had, and that he would wake up, feeling the pain of disappointment when he realized it wasn't real. That it was all in his head.

Fred seemed to sense his apprehension, pushing in and kissing him deeply. He guided one hand to the back of his brother's head, cradling it gently as he poured everything he couldn't say into the kiss. He wanted to erase the pain he'd caused. He kissed George with as much passion and love as he could, in an attempt to make his message perfectly clear.

'_I love you, George.'_

* * *

**Author's Notes: Happy chapter anyone? About time, I know… I actually cried writing this and for ****me**** (especially with my HFASD) that is a big deal! I made my proofreader cry too. (SCORE!) **

**And as a side note, I'd like to add that it ****has**** been pointed out that I make the characters "cuss like Americans". To this, all I can say is, I'm American. It happens. I've been very careful to make sure most (if not all) of my references are accurate, including the location of the Room of Requirement and so on. So, if the fact they "sound American" bothers anyone, I apologize and ask you to correct it in your head. Thanks. :)**

**Anyway, I have a harder time showing Fred's soft side, but I think I'm doing okay… Now, to address some points here so you all know I'm not getting lazy and rushing things:**

**1.) Fred ****has**** been in love with George for years, but has done a much better job than his brother of repressing it. Unfortunately, with repressed emotion, once the dam breaks, everything goes a little crazy. I'm kind of aiming for that feeling.**

**2.) Alicia and Hermione are far from out of the story just yet. Keep your eye out for these little catalysts to help and/or hinder our boys later on. **

**3.) I've been told by my best friend and proofreader that I write 90mph stories… This is true and I ****admit**** it. I like things to flow smoothly and move along fast. I don't like a lot of down time, especially with teen drama settings because, well, really, teens don't allow themselves downtime between dramas. I remember very clearly how that was. **


	8. Are You Sure?

Chapter Eight: Are You Sure?

Fred pulled back, just barely, his eyes searching George's face. For the first time in his life, he noticed just how truly different the two of them were, despite being identical. He realized just how beautiful the differences only he could see made his twin. Smiling, he watched George as he processed what had just happened.

The kiss would have been nothing to most people – too tame, too shy, too light, but to Fred and George, it was earth-shattering. It was the beginning of something neither of them ever thought they'd have, though they'd both secretly hoped for so long.

George opened his eyes slowly, still unsure if he was dreaming. He could feel Fred's hand still cradling his head, anchoring him to the reality of the situation. Fred wore a lazy, confident smile as he continued studying George's face in the firelight, letting him go, giving him a chance to run. He didn't. Instead, George shifted, uneasy and embarrassed at the sudden lack of contact between them.

"Fred?" George's voice was small and shy as he lowered his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"How long have you liked me?" It was a silly question, one he that made him feel foolish and vulnerable, but he had to know.

Fred stared at George as if the answer should be obvious. "I've loved you for as long as I can remember."

"A-are you… I mean… I don't want you to think… just because I…" Words tumbled from George's mouth in a string of half-finished sentences, his face beaming beautifully with embarrassment.

Fred's smile widened in amusement.

George took a deep breath and started again, meeting Fred's eyes once more. "Are you sure you want this? I mean, that you want," he motioned to himself dismissively, his insecurity and fear ringing clear, "me?"

"I'm sure," Fred said keeping his tone light and soothing. "I wasn't at first," he admitted sadly, "but now I am. I've never felt anything so… so right. I have always wanted this." He enunciated every word of the last sentence.

George looked skeptical.

"Always." Fred repeated. "I just had to get over myself and stop being a jerk long enough to realize it."

As if to prove his point, he pulled George in, claiming his mouth possessively. The spark between them ignited immediately, all pleasantries shoved aside as the heat between them built. The emotional torment of the days leading to this point fell away in the moment, all but forgotten as they clung to each other.

George laid back on the sofa, maneuvering himself so that Fred hovered over him. His body trembled with excitement, his breath catching in his throat at the taste of Fred.

Fred pulled George's lower lip into his mouth, sucking lightly. The younger twin gasped, unconsciously pressing his body closer as he pulled Fred down hard against him, taking control. Fred felt himself yield to it, letting his brother taste his mouth in ways he'd never dared to imagine.

Passion and desire crashed over them like a tidal wave, driving all semblance of nervousness or embarrassment away as they opened themselves to each other with total love and complete trust.

Fred moaned openly as George's tongue traced the roof of his mouth before finding his, twining them together with unnatural skill. He twirled his tongue around in ways that sent shivers through both their bodies, needy little moans filling the air around them. Fred had been forced to plant his hands on either side of George, bracing himself against the couch just to keep from collapsing as George's hands wandered down his sides, over his flanks and back up across his back.

He felt his head go light as blood rushed to his nether region, leaving him achingly hard. His straining blue jeans were the only thing keeping his erection in check under his school robe as he felt his hips buck down against George, involuntarily seeking contact.

George practically purred into Fred's mouth as he trailed one hand down to rest on Fred's hip, his thumb rubbing small circles against the bone. He pushed down with near-bruising force as he rolled his own hips upward, letting Fred feel the effect he was having. Just as Fred thought he would pass out from lack of air and pleasure, George released him, pulling himself away to grant his brother total freedom. Fred had freedom enough to run away if he'd wanted, if he'd suddenly changed his mind, though it was the furthest thing from his mind at the moment.

"Fuck, George," Fred groaned, feeling his heart race and eyeing his twin hungrily. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew this had escalated too fast, but he found himself not caring as he came undone by George's affection and attention.

George smiled a little, taking Fred's cues as he ran one finger lightly over Fred's lower lip. "Was that okay, Freddie?" His eyes flickered with insecurity for a moment. He wasn't trying to start any sort of pillow talk. He really needed to know that he was doing things right, making Fred feel good.

Fred nodded quickly, his eyes wide. "Where did you learn to do that?" he asked in unabashed admiration of George's skills. He had never realized that his sweet, shy twin was such a ticking time bomb of lust before. Up until now, he'd just assumed George was a late bloomer, lacking a sex drive. Now he knew better.

By way of answer, George looked away shyly, making a slight shrugging motion. "Books…" he said, quietly. "I've read a lot…"

Fred raised one eyebrow, smirking. "Well, I have got to read more," he mused, staring in wonder at George, his pupils blown wide with lust. He took in the sight of George looking sweet and vulnerable under him with the glow of the fire dancing across his flushed face like it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen (and it was). He knew it was an illusion, though, this innocent look George pulled off so very well. His mind replayed their first kiss, conjuring images of George dominating him against the wall of their room. Now, here he was again, having fully intended to be in control of this situation, but finding that George was leading him.

George had started peppering Fred's neck and ears with sweet little kisses now, taking time to blow lightly over the back of Fred's ear, sending shivers down his spine once more. Fred inhaled sharply, hissing as he felt his skin light up hot and sensitive everywhere George's lips touched. He felt his stomach tightening as his arousal threatened to push him over the edge any second.

"Oh, God, George," he whispered, his voice coming out heavy and thick, trying to convey his need to slow down for fear of losing his mind. His arms shook, barely supporting him anymore, his chest brushing George's, as he tried to calm his mind. It was no use. He was completely helpless, taking shallow ragged breaths as George trailed one hand over his back and down the outer curve of his hip as he continued to torture him with feather light kisses.

George paused what he'd been doing and answered by way of a small "mmm?", sending the sound straight through his twin. His azure eyes dark with desire as he looped his arms loosely around Fred's neck, leaning up and kissing him softly. George kissed him as if it were the most natural thing in the world, letting his soft mouth mold to Fred's with ease. Fred could feel a lifetime of love pouring into the kiss, raising the temperature between them even more.

George flicked his tongue across Fred's lower lip, rocking his hips up at the same time, brushing their groins together in a way that caused them both to gasp. Truth be told, neither of them had enough experience to really know what they were doing, but at this point nothing that happened could honestly be seen as "bad". They were long past the point of clumsy mistakes and giggle fits.

"Fuck, George…" Fred felt the room spin, pleasure flooding his senses, pulling George's name from his lips in a low, needy moan. He'd barely recovered from the first burst of pleasure when he felt George do it again, trailing his tongue along Fred's bottom lip teasingly and rocking his hips so that their erections rubbed against each other through the layers of clothing. It was more than Fred could take. He slammed his eyes closed, white lights bursting behind the lids. He growled low in his throat, his head falling forward as his lithe body tensed against George, muscles flexing.

George stared in awe, feeling something akin to pride swell in his chest as he watched Fred give in and unravel above him.

It was a sight he'd seen several times before, watching from his bed when Fred thought he was asleep at night. Fred was always careful not to make too much noise when he came, but George always knew when it happened. He knew how Fred bit his lip to stay quiet, arching his back and tensing under the blankets as he spilled his seed in the dark, falling apart in the grasp of pleasure and lust.

This time was different, though. This time, he'd been the root of it, making his brother fall apart above him, fully clothed, a symphony of delicious sounds passing Fred's lips at his bidding.

Fred couldn't hold himself up anymore, collapsing into George's chest with no grace whatsoever as he rode out the aftershocks with deep, gasping breaths. After several minutes, he finally recovered, a deep blush tinting his face. "Sorry."

George grinned, "Don't be." He'd thought of teasing Fred a little for it, but seeing his boisterous twin humbled by the event made him want to comfort him and let him know it was alright.

Fred frowned, feeling George's neglected hard on pressing up against him as he lay there. He swallowed, unsure of what to say or how to ask. "Should I-" he started, nerves and insecurity lining his voice. George shook his head, stroking Fred's hair gently.

"I'm fine," he whispered. It was his turn to blush. "We can get to that later… When you're ready. Let's take it slow. Ish."

Fred nodded, lifting himself up again to meet George's eyes. His embarrassment had begun to wane as he cupped George's beautifully flushed face in one hand, kissing him softly. "I think I can handle slow-ish," he chuckled, white teeth flashing.

Fred hadn't been lying when he said I felt right. Fred had never dated, but he had kissed before. Or, more accurately, girls had kissed him. Either way, it had never felt like this. It had never made him weak in the knees or sent him shocks of desire like kissing George did. Something had always been missing in those kisses. Now he knew, George had always been missing. Every kiss with George was so sinfully sweet and pure he never wanted to stop. Never wanted to let him go.

Fred grinned. "I love you, George."

"I love you, Freddie."

Fred took on a more somber look, then. "George, we need to go back to our room." George bit his lip and nodded, his eyes darkening once more, but Fred shook his head. "No. To sleep, you pervert," he clarified, chuckling and flicking George in the forehead.

George couldn't help but put on a playful pout.

"Don't worry, George," Fred said, grinning. "I won't change my mind by morning. We have plenty of time," he swore, his expression serious. "And first chance I get, I'll have a chat with Alicia about how I already have a girlfriend."

George punched him lightly in the arm. "I'm not your girlfriend!"

Fred raised an eyebrow. "Really? Who's on bottom?" he asked, looking down at George, grinning like a Cheshire cat.

George scoffed in mock disgust before rolling Fred unceremoniously to the floor and straddling him victoriously. "I'm not your girlfriend," he repeated, rocking his hips suggestively.

Fred laughed then, holding his hands up in surrender. "Okay, okay! You're not my girlfriend," he agreed, running his hands down George's side to rest on his thighs. "You're still on bottom, though," Fred teased, smiling.

George smirked, leaning down slowly and nuzzling Fred's cheek. He blew lightly across Fred's ear, earning a full-body shiver. "Maybe…for now."

When he sat back up, Fred had turned red again. "Sleep," he stated, his voice tense and cracking a little.

George nodded, grinning and bounding to his feet to run and check the door while Fred pulled himself back together. He felt like he was seeing his twin for the first time, still unsure when George had become such an imposingly sexual creature. One thing was certain to Fred, though, he didn't want anyone touching George, seeing this side of his George, but him.

.~*~.

Once they made it back to their room, George sighed, relief flooding him. Filch had given up the search shortly after finding them gone and no one else had been out looking for them while they'd hid in the safe room.

The common room had been empty with the exception of Hermione and Ron, their youngest brother, snoring over a pile of text books in front of the fireplace. It was obvious they had been studying.

George had stopped over the two long enough to place Ron's hand over Hermione's, careful not to wake them as he suppressed a chuckle. Fred gave him a questioning look as George leaned in and whispered, "If she wants a Weasley, then she can have him. I'm yours."

Fred nodded, shifting his weight as George brushed past him to the stairs. He could feel the heat rise in his cheeks and ears again as a blush crept over his features in the darkness.

Once inside their room, Fred wasted no time gathering his clean pajamas and underwear, heading for the door again.

"Gotta shower," he said, rushing out the door.

George couldn't help but laugh. He was truly enjoying seeing this side of Fred, so nervous and jumpy and unbelievably cute. He changed his clothes and climbed into bed, suddenly feeling extremely worn out. He wasn't one to stay up late and this had been a very long, very eventful day.

He felt his eyes flutter as he recalled the day's events. It had started so horribly and ended so well. Silently, he praised Fred for finding the secret room and thanked whoever had decided to build it into the castle, making his mind up that it was most certainly his favorite place in the world now.

As he drifted to sleep, his mind buzzed with happiness and love. Somehow, against all odds, his prayers had been answered. It was easily the happiest night of his life to date.

.~*~.

When Fred came back from his shower, he found George already asleep. He smiled lightly, huffing in the semi-dark room as he moved to his bed, snuffing out the lantern.

He lay there for what seemed like ages, feeling the chill of the weather seeping into the room and sighed. He rolled one way, then the other. He tried pulling his blanket close and found it didn't provide any more warmth than it already had.

Somehow, after all that had happened, he just couldn't get comfortable being so far from George. The ten feet between their beds felt enormous and he decided this just wouldn't work. Grabbing his pillow, he shuffled through the dark, locating George's bed with his shin and cursing quietly.

George had always been a light sleeper and it showed as he stirred, rubbing his eyes in the dark. "Mmmm… Fred?"

Fred froze, hiding his pillow behind his back sheepishly, forgetting for a moment that it was pitch black in the room.

"Uh… yeah. It's me," he answered, a hint of nervousness in his voice.

"Couldn't sleep?" George asked, yawning. "Bad dream?" His voice held a hint of worry.

Fred shook his head, again, forgetting he couldn't be seen as guilt for waking George washed through him. When he remembered he couldn't be seen, he cleared his throat. "No… I was… uh… cold."

George chuckled, rolling back to the edge of the tiny twin bed. "Warm over here," he said, yawning again. The invitation was clear.

Fred smiled to himself, pulling back the blankets and slipping in behind his brother. He lay stiff for a moment until he felt a hand reach back, grabbing his and pulling. George pulled Fred's hand around his waist, locking their fingers and cuddling back against Fred's chest, seeking the extra warmth.

"Relax… 'S okay," he mumbled, obviously falling back asleep.

Fred exhaled heavily, snuggling his nose against George's neck.

George's breathing was steady and slow as he slipped back into sleep.

"Love you," he whispered, closing his eyes.

They had slept in the same bed many, many times over their fifteen years of life, but this was their first time sleeping in the same bed as a couple. Everything was different and they both knew it. Everything had changed. Everything was better. It was just right.


	9. Time's Up, Freddie

**Author's Notes: I would like to personally apologize to Lilium Willow for making her ovaries explode with chapter eight. And by apologize, I mean you're welcome. ;)**

**Now, all I can say for this chapter is I've tweaked and edited it as much as I can to make it what I had in my mind and, somehow, I'm still not happy with it. I'm also very harsh and critical when it comes to my own work… Either way, here you guys go… enjoy. :)**

* * *

Chapter Nine: Time's Up, Freddie

The next week passed without incident and, despite their vow to take it "slow-ish", the Weasley twins found themselves emboldened by their new bond, finding any reason to sneak off alone when they could and explore the boundaries of their new relationship. They talked like strangers getting to know each other all over again, staying awake until dawn before falling asleep together and, of course, they made plenty of time to make out when the danger of getting caught was minimal.

Fred had been surprised to find that George was skilled in locking and silencing charms which they now kept on the door to their room for privacy's sake and despite the passion and newness of the relationship, Fred was wary of moving beyond their usual heated kisses and heavy petting.

George did his best to restrain himself with minimal complaint.

However, in the wake of their blooming adoration for each other, George remained well aware that Fred had yet to break things off with Alicia.

She'd wasted no time getting an explanation for the fight in the Great Hall and seemed all too eager to accept any excuse she was given and wave it off. She had also been doing her best to catch Fred's attention as often as she could over the week, pulling him away in between classes to make small talk and bat her eyes flirtatiously.

George begrudgingly let it go, trusting Fred to take care of it. He found himself expecting more than once to see the form of Alicia Spinnet race past him to the girl's room, crying, but it never happened.

Quite the contrary as more than once that week, George had been passed notes in the hallway meant for Fred, each one mentioning their upcoming date or asking silly questions about his favorite colors or foods. He simply rolled his eyes, passing the note over to Fred after reading them as Alicia blushed brightly at her mistake, mouthing a small "sorry" in his direction.

As that Friday came to a close, the temperature had dropped to ten degrees and snow fell outside the castle windows, building a blanket of soft, frozen fluff on the ground. They had spent the majority of their day in Defense Against the Dark Arts learning to deflect simple attacks and disarm their opponents.

Dinner had come and gone in a flurry of chatter as Alicia had made sure to save them each a seat so she could cuddle up to Fred, babbling on about some silly Muggle movie she'd seen over the summer that she thought he might like.

Fred pretended to be listening for the sake of politeness, though his attention was drawn to George, knowing the situation could not be comfortable for him and wishing they could just sneak off alone. With Alicia on his right and George on his left, each sitting uncomfortably close, he felt his appetite waning, though he forced himself through the meal as if nothing were wrong.

George had hurried through his food (a rather large helping of roast, mashed potatoes and brown gravy, and a select variety of vegetables) and was picking at his desert to pass the time, waiting for Fred and doing his best to ignore the "couple" seated next to him at the table. In spite of it all, he was patient, keeping his features set on his usual friendly, personable nature and carrying on small talk with anyone who bothered to acknowledge him.

Finally, Fred finished his dinner and excused himself. With George in tow, he quickly explained the need to study for their O.W.L.S. and left a disappointed Alicia in their wake. He sighed in relief once they reached the stairs toward the seventh floor.

"Man, she likes to talk," Fred laughed, shaking his head lightly.

"Yep," George agreed, popping the 'p' loudly.

"You okay, George?" Fred asked.

George nodded tensely, though his irritation was obvious as he shot Fred a sideways glance.

The rest of the walk was silent, tension filling the space between them. Up to this point, the only indication of George's hidden jealousy and irritation at the situation with Alicia could be found in the way he kissed Fred when they were alone.

As soon as they had cleared the common room and shut the door to their bedroom behind him, Fred found himself being lead to George's bed. George pushed Fred to sit and straddled him, looping his arms around the elder twin's neck lazily. He kissed Fred slow and sweet, taking his time, letting Fred relax under him.

George worked out his frustration on Fred's mouth, kissing and nibbling Fred's lips slowly, gaining small, breathy sighs. Fred's lips parted on command, showing trained submission as he opened himself to George. All hints of shyness or nervousness between them had vanished over the past few days and, like most things in life, they had quickly found a natural, unspoken way of communicating what they preferred as they discovered each other more and more intimately. Fred had learned very quickly that George liked to be in control, leading him along and teaching him by example and he loved the feel of George's lips on his, all heat and passion even at their softest.

George wasted no time pulling more wonderful, musical sounds from Fred as he rocked his hips slowly, sensually against Fred's lap. Fred accepted the attention eagerly, pulling George's torso flush against him with a nearly-animalistic growl. He let his hands roam across George's back, his fingertips barely making contact. It was sweet, delicate torture, just the way the younger twin liked it.

The slow, loving touches sent shivers through George, easing his jealous heart a bit as he reveled in the sensation. Unfortunately, even in the grip of pleasure and lust, he still couldn't quite ignore the elephant in the room.

His mind wandered as Fred moved from kissing his mouth to nibbling his neck and he felt the tears prick his eyes as his mind forced images of Alicia through it against his will. No, not just Alicia. Alicia and Fred. Together. Like this. Kissing, holding each other close, hands wandering in the dark as they giggled and played between the sheets, trusting simple charms to keep them safe and hidden. He felt his stomach turn. She was going to take his place, he just knew it.

'_That's where this is all heading,'_ a taunting voice in his head told him. He felt sadness overtaking him as his brain played horrible tricks on him in this intimate setting.

'_No!' _he shouted at himself, trying to shut it out.

The voice ignored him. _'She's going to take him…'_it went on.

George could feel Fred pulling at his clothing now and raised his arms, letting his shirt and robes be lifted off of him slowly. Fred tossed the clothing to the floor as his mouth and hands found purchase on George's porcelain chest. George's body reacted on its own, arching into the feel of Fred's scorching lips on his skin and setting his nerve endings ablaze. He clasped his hands behind Fred's neck to keep from toppling backward and prayed the heat of the moment would burn away his fears and insecurities, drown out the voice, and remind him that Fred had already chosen him.

It was useless. His brain kept busy, showing him a vision of Fred holding a dark-haired beauty. In his mind, Fred's lips traveled over her naturally dark skin, his hands gliding in reverent, worshipful movements over her slender waist, while her face reflected all the pleasure she felt being with him. All the while he whispered words of love to her in husky tones. George could all but hear her calling Fred's name in operatic moans, though he refused to let himself imagine anything beyond what his mind had already forced him to see.

'_He hasn't told her no yet,'_ the voice reminded him. _'He promised, but he hasn't…he wants her… he won't let her go…'_

Despite the grief Alicia's visage and his own thoughts caused him, George found that his rampaging imagination had done nothing to quell the flame in his body under Fred's fingers. It was a realization that disturbed and aroused him beyond comprehension. His head swam with conflicting emotions and sensations, pushing him to the brink of fainting as his breath came in short, fast gasps.

Fred's fingers traveled over George's bare chest with soft, worshipful touches, unknowingly mimicking George's imagination. He had no idea of the battle waging in his brother's head as he continued what had already been started. He captured George's lips, kissing with skills he'd learned over the past week. He felt confident and bold tonight, his love for George shining through, pure and golden in everything he did. He let his hands trail lower, over quivering stomach muscles to a sparse line of fiery curls that started below George's belly button and dipped under the band of his blue jeans, earning a low moan.

"This okay, Georgie?" Fred asked, breathless as he hooked one finger into the top of George's waistband behind the button. He didn't dare go further without audible encouragement. He watched George's face intently, his own body aching with need and anticipation.

George's body shook involuntarily at the term of endearment. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth to feel how close Fred was to releasing him.

'_He's distracting you,' _his brain taunted again.

Even now he waged a silent war. Images of Fred and Alicia seemed to be burned into the backs of his eyelids, driving his mind to despair even as his body cried out for more. He opened his eyes to relieve himself of the vision, but it did nothing to help. She was there, stuck in his head, threatening his new found joy.

"George?" Fred asked, starting to get concerned.

George barely heard him. He had slammed his eyes closed against the unwanted thoughts, hiding the tears that still stood there.

He didn't want to keep going. Not like this, with these horribly erotic visions and that damn voice in his head taunting him in silence.

He didn't want to stop, either. Fred's reluctance at physical contact had finally given way and he was ready to go further. George didn't want to push him away or discourage him in such a delicate stage of their relationship but…

Fred noticed George swoon slightly and braced him with a solid, iron-clad grip on his hips. He called George's name again, trying to instruct him to take deeper, slower breaths, telling him he was hyperventilating. George heard none of it, his mind still racing a million miles an hour against sadness and panic.

He felt as if he was literally being torn apart from the inside out. A single tear dared to betray him, slipping down his face.

Fred stared, his blue eyes wide with worry. Something had gone wrong and he wasn't sure what, but the sight of George's tears hit him like a cold shower.

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, panic and worry filling his voice.

George opened his eyes, dizzy from hyperventilating and the torrent of emotions running through him.

"Did I… was that too much?" Fred cupped George's face, planting a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry," he whispered gently. "I won't do it again."

George let his head drop to Fred's shoulder. He inhaled deeply, filling his lungs to the brink and willing the anxiety to stop. He rolled his forehead against brother's shoulder in a half-hearted shake.

"It's not that." The words were meek, defeated, and barely audible.

"Then… what?" Fred swallowed his panic as confusion took its place.

"Your date is tomorrow." George practically spat the word "date", though his tone remained soft with a hint of sadness. He took another deep breath. "You said you'd take care of this…"

Fred stroked George's hair lightly, combing through the copper locks with his slender fingers. Suddenly he understood. This was about Alicia. He sighed, heavy and remorseful. "Yeah, I know…"

George found the energy to lift his head and Fred felt a surge of guilt overtake him as he was confronted with George's tear-filled gaze, stony and accusatory.

"I will. I'll… I'll talk to her," he promised.

George shut his eyes again, leaning his head back, face to the ceiling, as he choked back the tears that teetered on the brink, threatening to fall. Anxiety and anger mixed in a dangerous combination as he tried to keep his voice stead. "You said that yesterday, and the day before."

Fred cast his gaze downward, nodding. "I know…"

George continued as if he hadn't heard the admission of guilt, the words spilling from him uncontrollably. "Time's up, Freddie." It was hard to miss the venom in his words. "You need to deal with it," he whispered, his voice shaking with emotion. "I've waited for a week. How hard is it to just tell her to go away? I keep seeing her in my head, hanging all over you, batting her eyes at you like some lovesick puppy. In my head she's with you, touching you, calling your name..."

Fred shook his head, stunned that George had been thinking of such things while they were together. "She's my friend. It's not that easy… I mean, I don't want to hurt her. What am I supposed to say?" It was all he could think to say. It was a question he'd asked himself a million times over the week, but still could not seem to find an answer to.

"Say you can't be with her," George said, his voice still shaking. He could no longer hide the frustration and anger that edged its way in as he spoke. "Tell her you found someone else. Tell her you don't love her – that you don't even like her anymore. That you never loved her and never will. Tell her it was a mistake or you were just being nice. Hell, tell her you're snogging me for all I care, just get rid of her! Get rid of her before -" he choked on the words, but forced himself to go on – "before she takes you. Before I lose you…" The tears fell now in earnest, George's emotions breaking down the wall of calm he'd built until it was nothing but rubble and dust.

He'd been patient, waiting for Fred to deal with Alicia and the dating issue, but in the end, his bottled up emotions spilled over, guiding each tear down his face. He cursed himself silently for being such a baby and losing control.

Fred's eyes had widened at the suggestion of telling her they were together. Fear and guilt raced through his veins at the thought. No. That was the one thing he couldn't tell her… couldn't tell anyone. They wouldn't understand. They'd take their love, pure and untainted, and twist it into something dark and perverse. He'd be exposing George to all forms of unimaginable cruelty.

He ran a hand through his hair, lying back on the bed as he watched George cry above him. His face reflected none of the torment he now felt inside, instead schooling itself into a thoughtful stare as he tried to come to terms with what George was demanding of him. Falling apart now wouldn't help George. He would stay strong and find a way to fix this.

George had always cried easily, most of his emotions seemingly attached directly to his tear ducts, but it was still painful to watch. Even more so knowing he was the cause of it. He reached up, running his thumbs across George's cheeks to catch the tears that fell. He was overly gentle with his touch and this small show of affection seemed to pull even more tears from his trembling twin just as fast as he could wipe them away.

"I'll figure something out," he promised, keeping his voice even and soothing. "She won't take me. I love you, George. No one is going take me away."

George nodded, having no choice but to trust the words. "S-sorry I'm such a cry baby," he sniffled, trying to pull himself back together.

"'S okay, Georgie," Fred mumbled, staring at the ceiling while he pulled George down into a crushing hug. "'S just one more thing to love about you. 'Sides, you're right… I shouldn't have waited. I should've told her by now. I'm sorry." He planted a small kiss atop George's head. "I'll fix it," he whispered softly. He felt terrible with the knowledge that he'd made George cry. After a lifetime of protecting his sweet, sensitive twin, he was the one who'd hurt him the most. Nothing had ever made him feel worse than he did at that very moment.

They lay on the end of the bed for a long time, Fred holding George on his chest while his brain worked in overdrive, thinking of a million things at once, none of them making much sense. The only thing he knew for sure at this point was that he had been hurting George since the moment he'd rejected him and he'd continued his brother's anguish by not following through with his vow to break it off with Alicia.

He had to fix it. He cast a determined stare at the ceiling, knowing this was the kind of thing that couldn't wait for morning. He wanted to be able to tell George he had followed through and finally fulfilled his promise. He needed to do this for George – for them.

He lay there patiently, never loosening his grip on George's shuddering frame. He listening to George's breathing as darkness overtook the room with the setting of the sun, waiting for the gasping sobs to give way to the slow, steady rhythm of sleep. It didn't take long. Emotions were exhausting and George had felt more than his fair share recently.

When he was sure George was sound asleep, Fred carefully slid out from under him. He took a moment to stretch before stripping the cover off of his own bed and draping it over George's half-nude form. He admired how innocent and angelic George could look in his sleep. Fred knew he could never look that beautiful, despite being identical.

"Be right back, love," he whispered, pressing a small kiss to George's temple, being extra careful not to wake him. He quietly removed the locking charm from their door and headed down to the common room in search of Alicia. He was going to settle this somehow.


	10. Dumping Alicia Spinnet

**Author's Notes: Just wanted to say, in response to "Guest's" review on chapter nine: I do my best promise I will in no way lose inspiration ****or**** make this a rush job. I don't care how many chapters it takes, I will make sure this story is written to my standards (which I hope by now you all know I have some high standards for myself and my writing). **

**At times, this may mean I have to take longer to update. Other times, this means the story will veer off of the main pairing to further the plot. Just be patient and try to enjoy the story as much as I enjoy writing it. :)**

**In other news: I might be updating a little slower after next week. I landed a modeling gig for a tat shop which will require a lot of time under the needle for (more) tattoos and piercings and even more time in front of a camera. (I'm ****super**** excited!) Add to that my full time gig as a stay at home mom and my writing (plus art) and I'm going to be just a tiny bit busier than I already am. **

**As stated in the past, though, I try to stay ahead on the story, so please, don't fret. Sorry for the long notes lately, but if anything is going to potentially slow me down, I feel I owe it to you guys to explain. Also, sometimes I get reviews I just ****have**** to reply to publicly because I love them ****that**** much (or they aren't signed… either way)!**

**Now, keep the reviews coming (good and bad, I love 'em all and they keep me going!) and enjoy as we return to our regularly scheduled chapter. **

* * *

Chapter Ten: Dumping Alicia Spinnet

Alicia sat in the common room, enjoying the warmth of the fire in the hearth as the clock chimed ten. The room had begun to empty over the past couple of hours as some students departed for their evening classes and others paired off, heading for the library to study. Still, more than she would have liked lingered in small groups.

She let out a huff of breath as she stared at the pile of books on the table in front of her. She'd been meaning to study that evening, but somehow, her mind just wouldn't focus. No matter how hard she tried to make herself stay on task, she kept wandering back to the twins in her head.

She had spotted the Weasley twins her first year at Hogwarts and watched them intently, admiring their ability to find humor and trouble everywhere they went. Most notably, she'd seen how Fred was the leader of the two, taking charge of their mischief making and throwing himself into the line of fire if they were ever caught. She'd worked hard to build a friendship with the pair, letting her feelings build as Fred continued to protect not only George but anyone he deemed might be in trouble.

Fred was a protector and, being a young girl looking for her first love, that was exactly what she desired most in him.

Yes, Alicia Spinnet had eyes for Fred from day one and had worked hard to make herself known to him without giving away her intentions. Until the night she'd asked him for a date.

She closed her eyes thinking back and grinned. It had been a frigid night and she'd noticed Fred slip out of the common room. He and George were normally together, so she took the opening while it was there and followed him, catching him in the hallway and stuttering out her offer.

He had seemed shocked and even blushed, making her wonder for a moment if she'd gotten the wrong twin, but, inevitably, he'd agreed. They'd arranged to meet the following Saturday and go from there.

The following day was the promised day of their date, but still, she couldn't let go of the idea that something wasn't quite right. Though Fred had agreed to date her, and seemed pretty happy about it at the time, he had quickly become distracted and agitated.

Then there was the Bludger incident. She'd caught a momentary glance at George's face before Fred had saved her. If she didn't know any better, she would have thought he had aimed for her on purpose. She shook it off as her overactive imagination, however. It just wasn't like George Weasley to intentionally try to harm someone. Still, it had shaken her, and Fred's quick action had only solidified her resolve where he was concerned.

The following morning brought the fight in the Great Hall, however, and she saw Fred go from protector to bully for the first time. She'd gone unnoticed, watching from the inner circle as he and Hermione had faced off. She could only stare incredulously as a simple argument between Fred and Hermione had turned into a full on brawl between George and him instead. It was shocking to say the least and left her with many unanswered questions.

When she'd demanded an explanation the following day, he'd waved it off as a misunderstanding between the three of them. She'd accepted the excuse, but still, Alicia was no fool. She knew when people were hiding things and she planned to find out what was going on as soon as possible.

Fred entered the room quietly, spotting Alicia immediately, a dark blot against the fabric of the red, paisley chair she occupied. He approached quietly, tapping her on the shoulder. Ebony eyes met sapphire as Fred stood over her, his face unreadable.

"Hey, Alicia, we need to talk."

She sat up, swallowing hard as her stomach turned. Something was definitely wrong.

Fred motioned for her to follow him as he headed for the door, his eyes darting around the densely populated room. She took the cue and followed. When they reached the hall, he didn't stop, leading her down at least two twisting corridors, making sure they were alone. The fluttering of nerves in her stomach grew more intense until she couldn't take it anymore, grabbing his arm gently to stop him.

"Where're we going, Fred?" she asked, her voice coming out more timid than usual. Despite her friendship with the boys, something had been off recently, making them startlingly unpredictable.

Fred appraised the corridor they were in to make sure they were alone before speaking. "Here, I guess," he said, shrugging. He grinned, white teeth flashing in the moonlight that spilled through a nearby window.

"Is… something's wrong?" Alicia asked. Her dark doe eyes fixed on Fred's face with uncomfortable intensity. He shifted his weight, a nervous habit she'd picked up on. She'd begun twisting the end of her long, dark hair in one hand as she waited for his answer.

He nodded, shuffling his feet slightly, refusing to meet her eye. "Yeah."

"It's George, isn't it?"

Fred's eyes flew wide, one eyebrow cocking as he stared her down suddenly. His reaction let her know she was dead on.

"He hates me, huh? Because… because I asked you to date me?"

Fred chuckled a little. "No," he said, feeling it was only a half lie, "George doesn't hate you. He just feels we should spend more time studying."

Alicia took a step back, her eyes lowered to the ground and nodded. Her jet black hair fell forward, hiding her face as she stood in silence for a long while. She knew he wasn't lying per se, but he wasn't being completely honest either. She thought for a moment longer before making up her mind not to give up. Not quite yet, anyway. Finally, she looked up and Fred was shocked to see her smiling, the darkness of her eyes untouched by tears.

"So, it's not because you don't like me, right?" she asked, her voice hopeful and cheery.

Fred was taken aback. "Uh… well…" he wasn't sure what to say. His excuse had obviously gotten him out of the date, but breaking it off had obviously not gotten his point across. "I… uh… I like you, but there's… someone else," he said, careful not to use non-gender specific phrasing.

"Oh…" Alicia flicked her eyes downward for a moment before continuing, her hands twisting at her hair once more. "Do you… love them?"

Fred's face flushed as he thought of George. A smile unknowingly snuck to his lips as he answered, his voice ringing with honesty and adoration for George, "Yeah. I do."

Alicia nodded again, rocking back on her heels as she processed the information. She wanted so badly to know who it was. She wanted to ask if it was Angelina or Hermione or even…

Her eyes went wide and she smiled a little. Alicia had been smart enough to get into Ravenclaw, but it was the traits she'd valued most - loyalty, bravery, and leadership - that had sorted her into Gryffindor. Nonetheless, she had a way of reading people and was pretty sure she had just figured out what was amiss between the Weasley twins.

"Can I guess who?" she asked, making no attempt to hide the grin that spread to her face. It made her look remarkably brighter in the moonlight, showing Fred what a beauty she would one day be.

Fred blushed deeper, feeling the heat of it reach all the way to the tips of his ears, shaking his head a little. "Uh… no. I don't think that's such a good - "

Before he could finish, tanned hands grabbed either side of his face as honey-colored lips met his. Fred felt a surge of energy rush through him as her lips met his. It wasn't due to arousal or anything he'd ever felt. Instead, it was like Alicia was sending a wave of herself straight to his brain, causing him to go dizzy and sway on his feet.

He was forced to close his eyes and, unbidden, memories of he and George flooded his mind. Everything they'd talked about rang through his ears, one conversation overlapping the next in a jumble of sweet confessions and raging arguments. Images of the two fighting, hugging, crying, kissing, all cascaded behind his closed lids. He screamed for his brain to stop as feelings of pure love and devotion rattled his body in her grasp. He wasn't sure what Alicia was doing to him, but he had a sinking feeling she could see it all as well.

The kiss only lasted seconds, but when she pulled away, Alicia's eyes were wide and glazed, the dark orbs frosted over to the color of pearls, as her face muted itself of all real expression. "George," she stated simply, her voice void and seemingly disembodied.

Fred shook his head, stumbling back and holding the wall for balance as he caught his breath. "What the hell did you just do to me?!" he demanded to know.

She blinked blindly as if coming out of a trance. The frost on her eyes slowly thawed back to their normal shade. "I read your memories…" she stated simply, showing no sign of emotion. "I'm like a walking Pensieve," she explained. She slowly came back to herself, Fred's memories settling in her brain.

"A what?" Fred asked, confused.

"A Pensieve… they're magic bowls used for siphoning one's thoughts and-"

Fred cut her off, anger apparent in his tone. "I know what it is! Since when can people – even witches – do that, though?!"

She shrugged, fully herself again by this point. "Since I was about six? Used to happen when I touched people, but when I got older, I learned to control it."

"Wait, when you touched people?" he asked, staring at her open-mouthed.

She shrugged slightly. "Someone needed my first kiss and you've gotten a lot of practice lately with George so…" she trailed off, smiling shyly.

Fred had found his feet now, closing the distance he'd put between them in two strides. He grabbed her shoulders hard enough to bruise. "What did you see?" he demanded, glaring down at her.

She smiled gently, ignoring the slight pain of his grip, and placed one dark hand over his. "I won't tell, don't worry."

His face was stone as his eyes pleaded, asking again, "What did you see?!"

A slight hint of color stained her cheeks. "I saw everything. I know how hard this is for you and George." She spoke to him in the tone you use to soothe a spooked animal and her eyes softened. Her tentative fingers brushed the back of his hand on her shoulder. "Especially you…"

Fred searched her face, panic racing in his veins. He tried to decide whether she was being honest or not. He was sure her promise not to tell was a rouse meant to lure him into a false sense of security. She stared back at him, her large dark pools reflecting nothing but sincerity and sweetness. In the end, he knew he had no choice but to trust her. She knew.

"I won't tell," she repeated quietly. "I get it. You can't help who you love." Truthfully, Alicia did not have a single jealous or vengeful bone in her body. Even now, revenge never crossed her mind, just simple acceptance of what was and what couldn't be.

"Thank you." He heaved a sigh, pulling her into him and squeezing her hard against him. "Thank you so much… I didn't think anyone would be on our side. We don't deserve you."

She smiled, sweet and serene, flushing with pleasure at the praise as she rested her cheek against his chest. She felt a slight sadness, letting him hug her as long as he cared to, but also happiness. He had been right, her abilities were unique and she knew, more than Fred could ever imagine, what it was like to be singled out. No, she wouldn't tell anyone. She had just been dumped in the name of true love and, somehow, she could only feel happy for the boy who had broken her heart.

Fred could only feel relief at having fulfilled his promise to George and, unexpectedly, finding an ally in the process. In all honesty, Alicia Spinnet was a saint in every sense of the word and, despite her unusual abilities, Fred felt lucky to have her as a friend.


	11. Covering Your Tracks

Chapter Eleven: Covering Your Tracks

Fred and Alicia wasted a little more time wandering the castle, mindful not to get caught by Mrs. Norris or Peeves as the two pests (as Fred called them) patrolled the halls looking for late night couples and trouble-makers. In the dead of night, the two teens talked eagerly about Alicia's life before Hogwarts and how Fred and George planned to open a shop after they graduated. Finally, when they'd exhausted all available small talk, Alicia turned, walking backward with bouncy steps, and broached the subject Fred had been so obviously avoiding.

"So… you and George," she mused, grinning. Her white teeth flashed brightly in the dark, lighting up her tan face.

Fred dropped his eyes, copper hair falling forward to hide the color rising in his cheeks as he watched his feet. "Me and George…"

"How long?"

"Since right after you asked me out." Somehow Fred managed to look pleased and guilty at the same time.

She nodded, solemnly. "That explains a lot… So, have you guys thought of a cover story?" she asked, curiosity ringing in her voice where he had expected to hear pain instead.

Fred stopped, brows knit together in confusion. "Cover story?"

She stopped now, too, still facing him. "Yeah… in case anyone starts to question your being a little too close for comfort?"

Fred's confusion only grew as he tilted his head, questioningly.

"Oh, come on!" Alicia laughed, her voice echoing off the stone walls musically. "I guessed it and I'm as bright as a sack of flour! You were inseparable before because you're twins, and everyone gets that, but lately you've been a little closer than most siblings."

Fred inclined his head a little more before nodding, seeing her point. Though he strongly disagreed with her assumptions about her own intelligence, he and George had been growing closer by the day and it wasn't impossible to think it had become somewhat noticeable to others. He had always assumed the fact they were twins was cover enough, but apparently not.

"What did you have in mind?" Fred asked, raising one skeptical eyebrow and crossing his arms defensively.

"Well… If one of you were dating someone…" she began.

Fred laughed. "I don't want to see George dating anyone but me."

She nodded, slowly, still adjusting to the change in their relationship, but grateful he was comfortable enough to talk freely about it with her. "I figured as much," she said, her tone thoughtful. "Besides, it would have to be someone who could play along with you." Her voice took on a dark echo of mischief that was all too familiar to Fred.

"You?" he asked, smirking.

She shrugged, again, looking impossibly innocent for the conversation at hand.

Fred chuckled. "George won't go for it…"

She grinned again. "He might. If you talk to him." Her eyes flickered with doubt even as she tried to assure him it was a perfect plan and a perfect cover that would let them be themselves without anyone getting nosy.

In the end, the conversation came full circle in Fred's mind and he agreed. It was better to cover their tracks than to leave it up to chance that no one would ever guess what was really going on.

"I'll try to convince him."

Alicia clapped her hands together. "And I'll do what I can to help," she offered, smiling.

Fred grinned now. "Good… then as long as you're throwing me under the bus," he said, poking her in the arm, "you're going with me."

Alicia shook her head, eyes wide with horror. "Oh no. He already hates me right now. Don't make me-"

He grinned wider, white teeth flashing.

"Crap. I have to, don't I?" she asked, defeated and pouting.

He nodded. "You're the one who had to know," he pointed out, laughing.

She sighed, glancing out the nearest widow. She noticed the sun peeking over the horizon, casting golden rays through the windows of the castle.

"Sun's coming up," she mumbled, changing the subject, hoping to buy enough time to think of a way to get out of being present when Fred talked to George.

"Dammit," Fred groaned, seeing she was right.

"What?" Alicia asked, yawning.

"George wakes up with the sun," he stated simply.

She coughed mid-yawn, catching his meaning immediately. There was no time to get out of this. He was going to make her go with him to talk to George.

"C'mon, maybe we can beat him." Fred grabbed her hand and they ran through the corridors in a race against the sun.

Alicia did her best to remain calm, knowing George would not be happy to see her. When they reached the common room, they doubled over, gasping and laughing as they shushed each other none-to-quietly.

"Morning." A sullen voice, barely audible, brought them to attention.

George sat in the far corner of the room in a small chair at the wizard chess table, fiddling idly with a knight. He'd already dressed for the day with the exception of his robes and his hair was pulled back in a low tail at the base of his neck. His eyes watched the pair from beneath long, copper eyelashes, though he kept his head down to give the illusion he was looking at the chess piece between his fingers.

George had spent all night tossing and turning, alone in his bed, visions of Alicia and Fred rampaging through his worried mind. When he awoke to find Fred missing, his initial reaction had been panic. Panic soon gave way to sadness when he realized Fred hadn't stayed in the room when he'd gone to sleep. He'd left him, alone and emotional, for some unknown cause. Now, here Fred stood with the cause for his disappearance clear as day standing next to him in the form of Alicia Spinnet.

Wiping joyful tears from his eyes, Fred beamed a brilliant smile at George who shot him a pained look in return before turning stormy eyes on Alicia. His eyes demanded explanations and penance for their late night tryst.

She smiled nervously. "Morning, George."

"You two have a fun night?" he asked. His voice dripped accusations and venom. He tried unsuccessfully to keep his mind from wondering what they had been doing, alone, somewhere in the castle during the dark of night. He thought immediately thought of the secret room he and George had found on their first night of reconciliation, which, unfortunately, also made him think of the things they did there that night.

"Been exploring?" the question was meant for Fred, though his icy glare remained transfixed on Alicia.

Fred looked from Alicia to George and back, his eyes growing wide as the implication settled in. "Oh… oh! No! George," he hissed, his cheeks coloring with embarrassment, "it's not like that! How could you think-? I mean, after last night-?"

Alicia's face flushed red, her imagination taking a wild turn in what she could never guess was the right direction as Fred's half finished sentences left too much to be imagined.

Fred noticed her blush and composed himself. "We weren't exploring. I was talking to her about our date."

George's face fell, pain and tears flooding his eyes at the mention of the date. He blinked rapidly, refusing to let himself cry before he heard them out. When the tears grew heavy, he ducked his head, pinching the bridge of his nose in a discrete attempt to catch them before they fell.

"We should talk about this somewhere else," Fred stated warily as a few groggy-eyed Gyrffindors - mostly fifth years looking to get in some extra studies before breakfast - started to stumble into the room. Alicia and George nodded in unison and the trio made their way up the boy's dormitory stairs in strained silence. George took the walk slowly, trailing behind to pull himself together. Despite it taking less than a minute to reach their room, he somehow succeeded in composing himself, replacing tears with a mask of false bravado.

Once in their room, George put the silencing and locking charms on the doors, as was habit now, and took a cautious stance in front of the doorway. Wasting no time, he turned to Alicia and George, his brilliant sapphire eyes demanding an explanation once again.

"He dumped me," Alicia informed him, trying to look hurt, though the corners of her mouth twitched upward slightly at the reason why.

George raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "He did?" He turned to Fred. "You did?"

Fred nodded, coughing to hide his excitement at the fact he'd finally done it. He'd agreed, during their long talk that night, to let Alicia spring her knowledge of the relationship on George. Neither of them expected to have this talk so soon, though.

"But I plan to pretend to date Fred," Alicia went on.

George looked confused, but didn't comment. He waited in silence for her to go on. She took a deep breath to steady her rattled nerves.

"Because I know," she finished.

George's eyebrows shot up again, confusion still apparent on his face as he tried to decipher her meaning. The room was silent for the span of three heartbeats when one possibility sunk in.

"Know… what?" he asked, his eyes narrowing to a skeptical glare on the last word.

"She knows everything," Fred admitted, a rose tint creeping to his freckled face. He rocked back on his heels and cleared his throat before adding clarification, "about us. That we're…" he paused, shooting Alicia an uncertain glance.

She nodded,her eyes wide and terrified, yelling for him to finish before George hit her with a killing curse – which he looked very capable of doing at the moment.

"In love." Fred smiled sheepishly.

George's eyes narrowed on Fred now, embarrassment and betrayal flickering through them. It was true he'd begged Fred to say anything he had to get rid of her (_"Hell, tell her you're snogging __me__ for all I care, just get rid of her!"_) but he hadn't expected Fred would actually tell her about them! He opened his mouth, accusations and anger ready, but Alicia spoke first, cutting him off.

"He didn't tell me," she announced, stepping between the twins as if to defend Fred not only verbally, but physically as well.

George pursed his lips, crossing his arms to show he wasn't going to attack, though he still looked completely capable of it in Alicia's eyes. "I'm listening," he growled through clenched teeth, anger coloring his face from ears to neck now.

Alicia hesitated, trying to find a decent way to explain. "Well… I… uh… I'm a…" She tripped over her own tongue, finding it considerably harder to talk to George than she had with Fred. Despite Fred's obvious temper, it had always been harder to talk to George for her, though she couldn't quite say why.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened up, looking up defiantly into his glowering eyes. "I'm a walking Pensieve."

George scoffed, chuckling slightly, though his eyes remained humorless and cold as ice. "What?"

"She saw it in my head," Fred interjected, his voice serious. "Like a Pensieve. It's a weird ability she has… reading minds."

Alicia shot a worried glance over her shoulder at Fred, silently praying George had accepted their explanation. Fred shrugged in response.

George laughed now, dropping his head, unbelieving. This was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard.

"So, she mind-raped you?" he asked, repressing his laughter for the moment as he pointed to Fred.

Fred nodded, his expression fixed on serious. He swallowed hard, fighting back the embarrassment his brother's words stirred in him.

"And you're just mysteriously okay with this, even though he dumped you?" George pointed to Alicia now, his laughter under control, though his mouth was still bowed into a wry smile.

She smiled, looking amazingly innocent and shrugged. "You can't help who you love, right?"

George looked unconvinced. "And you two expect me to just let you pretend to date because…?"

Alicia answered for them both, "Because nothing makes a better cover than a girlfriend and you don't have any other allies here. Even amongst wizards and witches, understanding will be few and far between for you two if you're caught and if you dared to try and live around Muggles…" She scoffed at the thought. "Well, let's just say they'd crucify you faster for this" she motioned between the two boys, "than for using magic." She had deliberately side-stepped the word incest as her face softened. She'd spoken with wisdom well beyond her fourteen years of life and, somehow, her nonsense was beginning to make perfect sense to George, though he didn't want to admit it. He wanted to challenge it and dare her to read his mind, but didn't. If she really could do what they said, he didn't want her poking around in his head, gaining ammunition about his weaknesses to take Fred from him.

She sighed heavily, her shoulders sagging with the weight of responsibility and secret knowledge her friendship with the Weasley twins, and her own nosiness, had brought her. "You guys need to cover your tracks if you're going to get through school without being caught," she warned.

George opened his mouth to shoot down her offer, but the look on Fred's face, begging him silently to trust her, changed his mind. He looked away from them as his brain turned the information over, looking for a flaw in their plan aside from the obvious risk of it being a set up to steal Fred away.

He didn't want to admit it, but, logically speaking, she was right. No matter how close they got, or how obvious it might be, no one would suspect anything if at least one of them had a girlfriend. Even their mother or Charlie – two of the most observant members of the Weasley family – wouldn't suspect anything if Fred was "dating" Alicia. Still, he didn't like the idea, even if it was just pretending.

"She guessed just by watching us. She's right. We need to have a cover and she already knows." Fred used his best soothing, persuasive tone. "We need to trust her. It's a good plan," he whispered, suddenly standing very close.

George blinked, meeting his gaze, his eyes brimming with moisture. He wasn't sure when Fred had even moved, much less come so close. Fred's hands rested on his shoulders, thumbs stroking gently along his neck, soothing him slightly.

"We need to be careful."

"I know…" George admitted, blinking back frustrated tears as his heart hammered painfully in his chest.

They were both silent a moment and Alicia shifted uncomfortably, averting her gaze to give them as much privacy as the situation would allow.

"She's not allowed to kiss you," George said, finally.

"Nothing more than holding hands, love."

George focused on Alicia, then. His eyes flashed with jealousy as he reluctantly consented to the plan with a stiff nod.

Alicia stared, half terrified, half stunned. She hadn't expected George to agree so easily, though she could see now she'd underestimated Fred's powers of persuasion where George was concerned. Perhaps she'd underestimated George's faith in Fred instead. Either way, his agreement came as a shock, no matter how reluctant.

Fred stroked George's face gently, bringing his eyes back to focus on him. Suddenly, the world fell away and George found himself lost in Fred's eyes. There was no Alicia, no jealousy, no Hogwarts… just them and the heavy beating of their hearts.

"No one will take me from you," Fred whispered quietly so only George could hear. His voice was gentle and sincere.

George nodded again, fighting back a surge of fresh emotion. He felt himself unconsciously leaning closer to Fred. "I'm scared…"

Fred sighed. "She won't tell…"

"She wants you…" George's voice shook.

Fred shook his head. "She knows I'm yours. She saw it in my head. Nothing but you," he swore, drawing George closer still. "I'm yours." Their lips stood a fraction of an inch apart now, their breath coming heavier as George's eyes fluttered shut in anticipation.

Fred would have been more than happy to close the distance between them, if it weren't for a loud "AHEM!" breaking their reverie and ripping them back to reality.

The boys jumped apart then, faces flushed. Their breath was ragged and uneven. Despite the subject of their quiet conversation, they'd somehow forgotten Alicia was actually in the room. Somehow, the world had narrowed down to just the two of them in a matter of moments.

Alicia's face was blushing dark crimson under her honeyed skin. She'd contemplated sneaking out of the room, but, as George had yet to move from in front of the door, she had found herself trapped and spellbound as she watched their exchange.

She giggled now, grinning widely. "And that is why you need me as a cover story. You two are utterly adorable, but I'd be more careful if you're going to get stuck in your own little bubble like that," she warned, schooling her features into a scowl, hands planted on her hips. "If it was anyone but me the reaction might not be so friendly."

The twins nodded sheepishly, feeling all of five years old again as she scolded them in an unnaturally motherly tone.

"Now," she continued, white teeth flashing again as she grabbed a robe off of George's bed and tossed it to him, "let's go get breakfast. I'm sure our boyfriend is hungry." She winked at George, planting a small kiss on his cheek and, giggling, she skirted around the pair to wait patiently at the door.

George blushed even brighter at the show of affection toward him. Dazed, he pulled his robe on and removed the charms. The twins followed the bouncing Chaser down the stairs toward breakfast, the unspoken plan running through both of their heads with trepidation, but in the end, it had already been decided.


	12. All's Fair in Love and War

**Author's Notes: Hey, everyone! Welcome back! So I'll start off with a fun question: Anyone else remember Hermione was in this story? Yeah… I almost didn't either. (lol!) So, thanks to the help of my wonderful proofreader, her boyfriend, and another friend of mine all reminding me, I bring you a Hermione-centric chapter! Hooray! **

**The next few chapters will be somewhat centering around Hermione and her state of mind… Sorry to veer away from Fred and George's awesomeness, but bear with me. It's all for the sake of the story. I swear! **

**Enjoy and don't forget I love reviews. ;)**

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Chapter Twelve: All's Fair in Love and War

As Fred, George, and Alicia headed out of the common room that morning, they neglected to notice a large pair of angry chocolate eyes fixated on them from the corner of the room. The bushy-haired brunette was perched at a corner table in the common room where she'd fallen asleep studying for her end of term exams.

She'd been awoken by the loud giggling and shushing of Fred and Alicia when they'd burst into the common room at the crack of dawn and had sat motionless and unnoticed as they'd been confronted by George about their being out that night.

She'd heard the beginning of what she assumed to be an argument and held her breath, hoping they'd continue within earshot. She was sorely disappointed as more students began to fill the room, wiping sleep from their eyes and mumbling amongst themselves about the need to study, causing the three fifth years to retreat toward the boy's dormitory. Even if they had continued the conversation in front of her, she wouldn't have been able to hear them clearly above all the shuffling and grumbling of their other housemates.

She had waited anxiously for their return, hoping with a dark heart that the argument had continued. She'd hoped George would realize what a deviant bully his twin was and separate himself from Fred as he had tried to do the night after she'd tended to him crying.

Unfortunately, when the group reappeared after fifteen minutes, they seemed to have resolved their issues, though George still looked unsure of his mood. Fred, however, seemed somewhat unconcerned with George, following a bouncy Alicia Spinnet like an obedient puppy toward the door. George trudged along beside them, practically being forced to go with them as Hermione saw it.

It left a tiny spark of hope in her that she might have an opening with the younger of the Weasley twins. It was obvious that Fred and Alicia still planned to go on their date – in spite of George's obvious loneliness – and had become inexplicably closer almost over night. The sight of them together left little doubt that they were a couple now.

Still, her frustration at seeing Fred boiled over as she watched them leave the common room. The only silver lining was that Fred dating could only mean one thing, George was left unguarded and alone. She had an opening to get close. But how?

Hermione's dark eyes narrowed at the door and she slammed her fist down on the table under her.

"No! No spiders!" The boy sharing her table snapped awake with a squeal at the impact, his voice cracking in confusion. Hermione had forgotten he was even there. A few students near them giggled and whispered behind their hands at his reaction, but he seemed not to notice as he struggled to get a grasp on consciousness.

He blinked his wide blue eyes, looking around the room in a half-sleepy daze until he spotted Hermione sitting across from him.

"Morning, 'Mione," he yawned, stretching his long, lanky limbs over his head. Hermione glared at him appraisingly, zoning back into her own world as she watched the boy carefully.

He was taller than her, even sitting, though not by much. His short, copper hair was mussed from sleep and his freckle-strewn face was currently contorted into the most unattractive yawn she'd ever seen. His build was lithe with very little noticeable musculature beneath his pale, ivory skin. He moved with a clumsy grace that was far from endearing to Hermione and his hand-me-down robes hung in great, sagging sheets off his body as he relaxed back against his chair, giving her a crooked smile.

She bit back a scoff at the thought that this boy in front of her could possibly be even remotely related to George Weasley, much less be his little brother. In her eyes, there was very little resemblance between the two beyond the freckles, blue eyes, and their signature ginger hair.

"Hallo…" he called. The irritation in his voice told her it wasn't the first time he'd said it as he waved at her lazily, bringing her out of her thoughts.

"What, Ron?!" she snapped, glaring up at him.

He shot her a confused look. "Weren't you paying attention?!" he demanded with a scoff.

Hermione sighed, putting on her best impartial demeanor. "No, sorry. What did you say?" she asked, her tone muted to disguise her own irritation.

"I said we should run and grab breakfast before all the fresh cinnamon rolls are gone," Ron repeated. He stood, smiling gently as he offered his hand to help her up, a blush creeping to his cheeks as he tried to look nonchalant about the gesture.

She shook her head, gathering her books in a huff. "Go ahead. I'll meet you there," she stated. It sounded much more like an order than a statement, as did many things Hermione said.

Ron blinked back his anger at her attitude, though the pain of rejection was written all over his face. His ears grew hot as he spoke. "Uh… yeah… okay. See ya in a few." He gave her an impartial nod before storming away, heading toward the stairs to the boy's dormitories instead of the exit.

'_Why do I even try?!'_ he wondered, shooting a quick glare over his shoulder at the foot of the stairs.

Hermione pretended not to notice his glare as she readjusted her books until she found a notebook she'd used as a journal. She'd been writing in the tattered notebook since her time at Hogwarts began.

She flipped open to a new page, scrawling her feelings across the paper with a reckless hand. Her normally elegant script was marred by speed and anger as she wrote. Her mind had been a flurry of fury and emotion since her argument in the Great Hall.

She wrote a short paragraph about Ron and his unwelcome advances, no matter how subtle they were, and then moved on to the subject of Fred. He had been, in her opinion, not only rude and hateful, but totally ungrateful for her help in tending to George. He'd even questioned her motives, making her crush on George public for his own twisted satisfaction. She'd written her feelings on these topics in length over the past week, unable to get their argument out of her head, but still had yet to make sense of Fred's deplorable behavior.

She heard the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs and halted her scribbling. She sat back, holding the notebook to her chest as Ron stomped back down the stairs, pausing to glare at her once more, his eyes still brimming with pain and anger. His hair had been combed and his robe was less wrinkled, indicating he'd changed clothes. His face was more alert now, but he denied her a good look as he hurried through the room and disappeared behind the painting into the corridor.

Closing her eyes, Hermione sighed shakily, feeling a slight pang of guilt for having upset him again. Lately they seemed to be fighting more and more. Despite how she felt about George, Ron was her friend and had been since she'd arrived at Hogwarts. Admittedly, their friendship was odd and uncomfortable at the best of times, but still, she valued him as a friend and hated having to hurt his feelings.

Unfortunately, it was a necessary evil lately as she'd noticed a huge change in Ron since the day after the unpleasantness in the Great Hall. They'd fallen asleep that night in front of the common room fire, studying, and awoke the next morning holding hands. Each had pulled away and blushed appropriately, though he seemed to be unable to wipe a goofy crooked smile off his face for the rest of the day. She'd tried to tell him it was nothing and to forget it, but it seemed the very act of holding hands had sparked some unwanted interest from him. He was now on a crusade to try and be nice, borderline chivalrous, despite her objections.

Her brows unconsciously knit together just thinking about it. There was no doubt Ron had developed a crush on her, but that did nothing to influence her ambitions in getting closer to George and, inevitably, she was sure Ron was going to be left with a broken heart in the end.

'_Better to push him away now,'_ she told herself, another heavy sigh heaving from her chest. She'd most definitely been pushing him away, but he kept coming back like some demon-possessed boomerang that couldn't take a hint.

She shook her head to clear her thoughts and forced her mind back on track, which normally would have meant studying. Today it meant focusing on Fred and George.

Before all this, she'd liked Fred well enough. His temper kept her slightly at bay, but she always had a secret laugh when she'd heard of a prank pulled on a well-deserving bully, knowing the Weasley twins had been out playing the savior yet again for students like her. Students no one liked and singled out for whatever reason they saw fit.

Hermione knew bullies all too well from her time in the Muggle world attending public schools and being tortured for her oddities at the hands of her friend and even her own parents. An involuntary shiver went down her spine at the memories.

Hogwarts had seemed like a dream come true, an escape from the horrors of the Muggle world and daily bullying and beatings, but in reality, things were no better here. Starting from day one, even the raggedy old Sorting Hat had the nerve to take its jabs at her, pondering quietly in her ear. She could still hear its annoying voice when she thought about how she'd even ended up in Gryffindor.

"_Well, well, well!" _It had chimed a smile apparent in its tone. She had been terrified. Hats didn't talk in the Muggle world and at eleven years old, she had no idea what to expect being dragged away from her home. Not that there was anything there for her besides abusive "playmates" and even more abusive parents.

"_Smart enough to get into Ravenclaw for sure, but I don't think you quite __fit__ there,"_ the hat mused quietly. _"Compassionate enough for Hufflepuff, but that isn't quite right either…"_ The hat had paused for a moment and she swore she felt it shudder as it delved deeper into her mind. She felt it was tearing her down to the bare necessities, analyzing her like the shrink back home had done. She wanted to cry, feeling like the hat was taking its time making fun of her.

"_You're definitely… __ambitious__ enough for Slytherin..."_ The way the Sorting Hat had said ambitious did not sound like a good thing to her and she braced herself for the next stab at her character. It had paused again.

"_You could do a lot of good if given the chance. You have a lot of courage…"_it stated decisively before bellowing _"GRYFFINDOR!"_

She could recall the cheers from the Gryffindor table and the warm welcome she received, feeling, for once, totally accepted. The feeling didn't last long. Trapped inside the stone walls of the magical castle, she found she was still a prime target for anyone who felt the need to tear her down for their own satisfaction and, most recently, Fred Weasley had done just that.

She'd been secretly glad to see him get his just deserts at the hands of his own brother after he'd humiliated her so eagerly in front of the whole school, but still felt he got off light for the grief he'd caused her.

'_He deserves to be punished,'_ her mind whispered. She nodded to herself.

'_But how?' _she asked herself, pursing her lips in thought.

'_He should be torn down and humiliated like he did to me,'_ she decided, though the "how" of it still eluded her.

She wanted to punish him, but more than that – more than anything – she wanted a way to get close to George and gain valuable information she could use in her pursuit of him. There was only one person he told everything to and that was Fred himself. Fred was the only one who could get close enough to him.

Suddenly an idea snuck into her mind, a terrible, wonderful plan for revenge and romance. She sat forward, grinning darkly as she laid her notebook on the table, flipping back through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

"Perfect," she whispered to herself, a small, jubilant giggle escaping her as her eyes danced with mischief.

At this very moment, an outsider might have taken Hermione for a mad woman the way she grinned to herself, scribbling quickly in her notebook as her mouth moved soundlessly with every word she wrote.

The plan would be a tough one to pull off and she'd have to steal quite a few items, but in the end, it wasn't anything she hadn't done before at the request of Harry and Ron for one of their stupid adventures. It was merely a harmless prank if you looked at it in the right light and, to justify it, that's exactly how she planned to look at it and sell it if she were somehow caught.

She finished her scribbling and smiled to herself, snapping the notebook shut and gathering her books. She practically danced up the girl's dormitory steps to get ready for breakfast, her heart light and her eyes dark as her plan ran endless loops through her mind, refining and perfecting itself.

By the time she was ready and making her way down to the Grand Hall, Hermione's plan was flawless. She knew exactly what she had to do and how to do it and she was willing to do anything she had to do make sure it succeeded.

As she entered the densely populated Hall, Fred, George, and Alicia were already seated and well into their breakfast. They talked animatedly amongst themselves, leaning their heads in close to listen to each other and laugh at some private joke they all seemed to share.

Still, their enthusiastic exchange did not dampen her mood. Even the sight of Fred didn't wipe the impish grin from her face as a single thought resonated cheerfully in her mind, _"All's fair in love and war.'_


	13. Showtime

**Author's Notes: I hit a mild block as my husband is out of town and sleep deprivation took over for a while... Now, thanks to my wonderful roommate, I got a little rest today and my brain is back in writing mode... Will start working on more chapters tonight to stay ahead of the game. In the meantime, enjoy.**

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Chapter Thirteen: Showtime

Step one of Hermione's plan was to collect ingredients, the most important of which would take timing, acting, and skill to collect. She'd stood to the side of the Great Hall's entrance for a long moment, watching, waiting for the best time to act. When she noticed only a few scraps left on Fred's plate, she knew it was time to move.

'_Now or never,'_ she thought, taking a deep breath. _'Lights. Camera. Action,'_

She set into motion, gliding along effortlessly into the Grand Hall. She was ready to act her little heart out.

As she neared Fred and George, she let her book back drop slightly, holding it in front of her so it bumped soundlessly off her shins as she walked. Just as she'd expected, Fred pushed his plate back and turned, flipping one leg over the long bench to stand just as she had started to pass him.

The faintest hint of a smile flashed across her face as she dropped her books, intentionally tripping over them in such a way as to make it look like an accident. "AH!" She cried out in alarm and flailed her arms in a half-hearted attempt to catch herself, but as she over corrected her balance to keep from tumbling forward, she spun slightly on her heel and fell back, landing hard on Fred's lap.

Fred's arms caught her out of reflex, cradling her head and guarding it from smacking into the table. His eyes were wide with shock as he stared at her. He risked a quick glance to George, gauging his reaction.

George was just as shocked as he had been, though he showed genuine concern for Hermione.

Hermione imagined how she must look to them – to everyone – and looked from one to the other before dropping her head, a severe blush highlighting her face. "I…I'm sorry," she whispered, sounding utterly humiliated by her clumsiness. She made no move to stand as she covered her face with both hands, willing herself to tear up, but the tears wouldn't come.

"Are you okay?" Fred asked, still cradling the back of her neck for lack of a better place to put his hands.

She nodded. "I'm so clumsy," she moaned dramatically from behind her hands.

Fred swallowed hard, "It's okay just tell us –"

" –what happened," George finished, leaning close to make sure she was okay.

Hermione lowered her hands slowly, peeking over the top of her fingers to make sure they were buying her act. They both wore looks of severe concern, their brows knit together in identical expressions. It made it nearly impossible to tell them apart, even for her. She motioned toward the aisle where her bag laid, pretending to be too embarrassed to speak any further. Books were strewn across the floor from being tripped over. To her delight, Fred turned red, assuming she was indicating that he had tripped her.

He swallowed hard. "Oh… I'm so sorry," he said quietly. He tucked his leg back self-conciously.

"Are you hurt?" George asked, catching her eyes.

Hermione shook her head slowly, dazzled by his attention and concern. "I… I think I'm alright," she said, though her voice sounded shaky and frail. She slowly started to stand, but grimaced as her left foot touched the ground, shifting very quickly to put all her weight on her right leg, making a show of her frustration at being wrong.

"You're hurt," Fred stated, pressing his lips into a hard line. He had been watching her face as she knew he would.

"I'm fine," she argued, tossing her curly chestnut hair over her shoulder to hide her face. Things were going too well and she was afraid she'd crack and smile. She leaned down slowly to gather her books, careful to play up babying her left ankle. It really did sting, but only a fraction as much as she let on.

"You're hurt," Fred repeated, his voice hard and commanding. He leaned over and grabbed the bag from her, handing it to George. He took it with unspoken understanding. "I'm taking you to the infirmary."

Hermione straightened up and at him with an air of defiance, though she made sure to keep her weight off her left foot. "I'm fine," she growled.

Fred shook his head, his lips pressed together in irritation. "No. You're not." He couldn't understand why she was being so stubborn when all he wanted to do was help. He quickly gathered her books without leaving the bench and shoved them into her bag while George held it for him.

"This is my fault –"

"Agreed," she said, tilting her head condescendingly.

He growled low in his throat and started again, speaking through clenched teeth, "This is my fault and you're going to let me help you or –"

"Or what?" she cut him off again with a daring tone.

He'd had enough. He stood swiftly, heaving a sigh as he hefted her into the air and slung her unceremoniously over his shoulder.

She wasted no time amping up her act. Her eyes flew wide with genuine surprise and she kicked her legs furiously, yelling at him. "I said I'm fine!"

"Your wrong," he argued.

"Put me down right now!"

"Nope." He popped the 'p' defiantly, shooting a broad grin to George.

George stifled a chuckle, hiding it unsuccessfully behind a cough.

"Fred Weasley if you don't put me down, I'll scream!" Hermione threatened.

"Go for it," he challenged, sounding as disinterested as possible.

Ignoring her struggling attempts to escape his grasp, he took her bag from George and made his way toward the exit, stopping only long enough to wave to George and Alicia before disappearing into the corridor. He was suddenly very grateful the school's hospital wing was located on the first floor, relieving any worry about falling down the stairs.

She made good on her promise to scream, filling the halls with an ear-piercing shriek as he toted her through the castle as if she weighed nothing. His only response to her struggling had been to pause just long enough to readjust her so she didn't fall. As for the screaming, he tried to tune it out, along with the ringing it left in his ear, as he ground his teeth and stubbornly walked on.

By the time they'd reached the infirmary, Hermione had done more damage to Fred than her fall in the Hall had done to her. She'd made sure to get in as many good blows as possible while in her role of struggling victim, "accidentally" smacking Fred with a stray elbow here or catching him in the chest with a knee there. She'd even managed to pull a few strands of hair straight from his head.

Still, he only stopped long enough to curse under his breath and resecure his iron-clad grip on her lower body before going on. Finally, he stopped and set her down tenderly on her right foot though his face beamed bright with restrained anger and frustration.

"'Bout time," she huffed, straightening her clothes and discreetly tucking the hair into her pocket before he could notice.

"Your welcome," he returned, holding her elbow with surprising gentleness, though his face was hard and humorless. "Let's go."

She glared, yanking her arm from his grasp.

He stared at her in disbelief, his eyes cold. "You're going in there," he told her, jabbing a finger at the infirmary door, "or I'll drag you in there." He waited for her to challenge him, despite the fact that he'd already proved he could do it, but she just lowered her eyes in a display of displeasure.

Finally, she sighed. "Fine. Five minutes. I have a final that I'm not ready for." She did her best to sound defeated.

It worked. Fred nodded, unquestioning of her reason for wanting to hurry out of the infirmary. It wasn't unusual for Hermione to spend her entire weekend studying while the rest of the students went to Hogsmede for some time off.

He led her into the infirmary and helped her to a bed. Dropping her bag on the floor beside her, he headed off to find the healer.

Once he found the infirmary's healer, Madame Pomfrey, they reconvened at the foot of the bed. While Fred spoke, explaining what had happened and how it had been his fault (she couldn't help but smile at the obvious guilt in his voice), Hermione sat back, pulling her notebook out and making a small check on her list.

Fred paid just enough attention to shoot her a disbelieving look, clearly believing she was studying at the worst time.

Hermione ignored him. She scanned the list again before snapping the notebook shut and returning it to her bag. Her plan was going perfectly and, compared to everything else on the list, she'd already obtained the most elusive item.

.~*~.

After fifteen minutes of poking and questions about her pain level, Hermione was diagnosed with a mildly twisted ankle and released from the infirmary on her on recognizance. Hermione tracked the time very carefully while she answered Madame Pomfrey's questions absentmindedly.

"You'll be alright to walk, but I'd stay off it as much as possible today," Madame Pomfrey warned.

Hermione agreed eager to get out of the room. Fred let out a sigh of relief, glad the injury wasn't serious – so mild it didn't even warrant healing – and apologized again before finally leaving her alone and sauntering off to meet up with George and Alicia once more.

The brunette watched him go cautiously, her mind pausing just long enough to question whether he really was the same bully she'd faced off with. She shook her head violently, tousling her great mane of curls in an effort to shake away her conscience as she left the hospital wing.

With or without getting revenge, her plan was still in effect and she wouldn't let anything slow her down. Not after the humiliating performance she'd just had to put on. Besides, this was her only chance at a shot with George and, if it worked, then any amount of self-imposed humiliation would be worth it.

When she was sure Fred was gone, she set off in a slow trot through the castle, her mind back on track. The slight soreness of her sprained ankle was the only thing keeping her from running full speed in her excitement to finish checking items off her list and begin what she had dubbed "phase two" of her plan.

The halls were hauntingly empty as most students had already headed out for the day, and those who stayed behind were holed up in their respective houses studying or wandering the grounds in groups, enjoying the snowy weather. Her steps echoed in her ears as she cantered along, feeling her excitement build as she nearer her destination. She headed down one long, narrow staircase, careful not to trip and ducked down a long, chilly corridor lined with rooms, most of which were no longer used.

Finally, she slowed to a stop, breathing hard and holding the wall for support. She only allowed herself to rest for a moment before continuing down the narrow dungeon corridor, peeking apprehensively into every room she passed. They were all empty. No students, no teachers, no Filch, and no Mrs. Norris. She momentarily wondered if even the resident spirits of the halls had left the castle for the day, though she was sure that was probably impossible.

After a few tense minutes of checking rooms and assuring herself no one was around to catch her, she made a beeline for the potions room. She was pleased to find Professor Snape was also out for the day.

She wasted no time, hurrying to the over-sized supply cabinet behind his desk and testing the doors. Locked. She dug through her bag in a frenzy, hands shaking from excitement and adrenaline.

She quickly found her wand. Pointing it at the door, she whispered, "Alohomora." Despite her barely audible whispering of the spell, her voice echoed thunderously off the walls. She barely flinched, however, as her eyes were fixed on the door of the cabinet. It swung open on its own, displaying an array of potion ingredients.

"Yes!" she cheered quietly. Her chocolate eyes stared intently at the door as if it would slam itself shut any second as she reached down and pulled her notebook out, holding it up so she could still watch the door as she let her eyes flick to the list.

Everything she needed was on the topmost shelf of Snape's personal supply closet. Slowly, carefully, she pulled the first item down, turning the jar of small green flies over slowly in her hands. The large, lacy wings of the insects seemed to catch what little light was in the room.

Glancing back at the closet, she almost dropped the jar when her eyes fell on a pair of small twin vials hiding near the back of the cabinet behind where the jar had been. They were barely visible at her height and, for a moment, she wondered if she was just imagining them. She carefully set the lacewing flies down at her feet and retrieved the vials, her mouth open in stunned delight. She hadn't imagined them and their contents were like a sign from above.

"What do we have here?" she mused, grinning. Her eyes danced with jubilation. One vial held a clear liquid that sparkled like water in the dim light of the classroom. Her eyes shifted, taking in the second vial with an even wider grin. She had planned on spending the next month brewing the thick, muddy liquid she now held in her hand. Each was labeled in Snape's handwriting, confirming their contents.

Her brain flew into overdrive, deciphering how to best use her discoveries. Her quick-thinking mind had already revised her earlier plans in the few of minutes since she'd discovered the potions.

"You," she said, quietly, speaking to the vial of clear liquid, "will now be plan A. And you," she spoke to the bubbling mud vial in her other hand with a devious grin, "are plan B."

She giggled as she slipped the vials into her purse and a cheery tune found its way to her throat while she replaced the jar of flies and shut the cabinet door. She reset the locking charm that had held the door shut. Picking up her bag victoriously, she turned to the empty room, calculating in her head that it had been about one hour since her performance in the Great Hall.

One nimble hand found its way to her neck and pulling out a small, hour glass necklace on a thin gold chain. She held it gently, stroking the delicate chain it hung from.

"Now, class," she spoke to the empty classroom, her eyes darkening, "let's have some fun, shall we?" With one quick turn of the hour glass in her hand, the classroom dissolved and she felt the familiar sensation of flying backward.


	14. Running the Obstacle Course

Chapter Fourteen: Running the Obstacle Course

When her feet landed on solid ground, she was standing on the grand staircase that led to the Hall. She could see her past self standing just off center of the entrance, waiting to make her move. Quickly, before anyone could see her, she glided down the stairs, careful not to make any noise, and took up position hiding behind a suit of armor just to the left of the bottom most step.

She waited, listening as her past self repeated her act from the hour before. It only took about five minutes for the argument to escalate to her yelling.

"Fred Weasley if you don't put me down, I'll scream!"

She heard the low rumble of his voice challenging her threat, though the words were unclear from where she hid. She held her breath. A moment later she spotted Fred's figure stop in the doorway. She blushed, seeing her past self hanging in a purely undignified position over his shoulder, kicking and screaming like an indignant two year old while he turned to wave to George and Alicia with the hand not securing her.

Then they turned, passing Hermione behind the armor without as much as a glance in her direction. Her past self fought him with feral growls while he strode with an almost unnatural grace down the corridor, ignoring her.

Hermione exhaled, though she stayed in position, remaining as still as possible, waiting. She counted one to sixty in her head, keeping track of the passing minutes. She counted three times before she heard an ear-splitting scream and smiled.

They were about half way to the hospital wing now and well out of her way. Still, she waited, counting again. When she'd counted the number sequence three more times, she moved out of hiding. They'd reached the infirmary by now, which gave her fifteen minutes.

Straightening her clothes, she proceeded to storm into the hall, looking as if she'd just finished arguing with someone.

George and Alicia were still sitting at the table, obviously waiting for Fred to return before finalizing their plans for the day. George looked up as she passed, his eyebrows shooting skyward in surprise.

"Hey, 'Mione!" he called, stopping her in her tracks.

She secretly thrilled at the nick name, allowing herself a minute smile before turning to face him. "Hey, George," she huffed, sounding irritated and out of breath.

"I... uh... I thought Fred took you to infirmary?" George asked, motioning toward the door, obviously confused.

She shook her head, moving back to sit between Alicia and him on the bench. "No. We got half way there and my screams finally convinced him I wasn't worth the trouble," she mumbled, doing her best to look embarrassed and annoyed at the same time.

George sighed, his blue eyes suddenly stern and concerned at the same time. "You should have let him take you. What if your ankle is really hurt?"

His concern brought genuine color to her cheeks as she ducked her head shyly, glancing up at him through long, black lashes. "It's okay," she assured him, forcing down the urge to smile in his presence. "It's just a little sore. I can walk fine."

George rolled his eyes with a smirk. "I swear you are the most stubborn girl I've ever known," he chided. "You remind me of Ginny."

Hermione flinched, pain shooting through her chest at the comparison to his sister. Though the youngest Weasley had plenty about her to admire, Hermione did not want to share any place in George's mind his little sister might occupy.

"Thanks," she muttered, forcing a smile. Her eyes flickered to the clock on the wall, keeping track of the time. "So, what were you planning to do today since we don't have class?" she asked, changing the subject.

"We're going to Hogsmede when Fred gets back," Alicia answered, cutting in before George could answer. "Where is he anyway?" she wondered aloud.

"Uh… I think he said he had to go get something from his room. He might be a while," Hermione replied, thinking quickly. She hadn't expected anyone to question his absence. "Anyway, I know you and Fred have plans," she went on, unable to mask her annoyance, "a date right?"

Alicia nodded slowly. "How did you-?"

"The whole school knows," Hermione informed her. "You two haven't exactly been subtle, have you?"

Alicia shot George a remorseful look, an unwarranted blush spreading bright crimson blotches across her face.

Hermione didn't notice Alicia's reaction. She'd already turned to George, expectantly. "What are you doing today?" she asked, her voice suddenly sugary sweet and shy.

He hesitated a moment, unsure how to answer her blatant flirtation. He'd planned on going with Fred and Alicia, but at the mention of their date, he found himself faced with a problem. Most siblings don't accompany each other on dates, twins or not.

"I.. uh… I was just gonna… uh…" His mind blanked, unable to think of a suitable answer in the face of the obviously loaded question.

"Study in the library," Alicia supplied, helping him out.

George snapped his fingers, nodding. "Yeah. Study in the library. O.W.L.S." he shrugged, putting on a playfully pained expression.

Hermione grinned, her eyes lighting up excitedly. "What a coincidence, I was going to study today to." – it wasn't much of a shock to anyone who knew her – "Mind if I join you?" She could count the number of students that she'd seen in the library over the past three years on one hand. It was almost too perfect. They would be completely alone.

George suppressed the urge to groan when he realized he'd all but trapped himself. He wanted to glare at Alicia for accidentally helping him set his own trap, but couldn't find an opening to do so with Hermione watching his face so intently.

If she joined him he would be stuck in the library all day, unable to escape and meet up with Fred in Hogsmede. If he turned her down, however, he was afraid she might get suspicious and go digging around in his business and, after the incident with Fred and Alicia the night before and how easily they'd been exposed already, that was the last thing the Weasley twins needed. Not that Hermione had any secret mind-reading abilities like Alicia, but still, he couldn't risk it.

George exhaled loudly, doing his best not to look annoyed by her rapt attention while she waited for his answer.

"Sure," he agreed in defeat. "Why not?"

Hermione's eyes flicked to the clock again. The minutes were ticking away and her time was running short. She needed to get out of the Hall with plenty of time to steer clear of Fred. There was no doubt he'd hear that she was there, but she maintained the irrational hope that he wouldn't question it.

"Meet you there around eleven then. I'll bring drinks," she chirped, standing and swinging her bag into position on her shoulder. She barely missed hitting Alicia in the face, but didn't seem to notice. "Don't be late," she warned, grinning. With that, she made her way out of the room, careful not to look over-eager.

George sat stunned, trying to figure out how his day had just been derailed so horribly. He was completely unsure what had just happened, but it left him feeling slightly uncomfortable. Alicia giggled uncontrollably, trying to hide it behind her hand. It seemed like ages before she regained control, though her wide, mischievous grin refused to leave, teasing him silently about the encounter.

"She likes you," she teased.

George's face turned red instantly, but he held his position, narrowing his blue eyes at her.

"No, she doesn't," he argued unconvincingly.

"Yes. She does. She likes you a lot," Alicia pressed.

George scoffed, rolling his eyes. He knew she was right. He wished like hell that he could say she was wrong, or, at the very least, that he could feign ignorance of Hermione's crush on him, but he couldn't. He'd known for a while and had done his best to simply ignore it. Unlike Alicia, Hermione had never mixed up him and George. She always knew who was who and that, above all else, was his first indication that she had a romantic interest in him. Now she had practically forced him on a study date.

"Fred isn't going to like this," George mumbled, slouching in his seat, arms crossed. He knew he'd be in trouble for this.

Alicia nodded, adopting a solemn demeanor as the statement settled in. Fred had made it pretty clear that he was not a fan of Hermione fawning over George and this whole situation could only spell trouble.

"I know, but what can we do? Fred and I are supposed to be a couple," she mused, forgetting to be careful with her words.

George glared at her, jealousy rising briefly to his blue eyes at the mention of them being a couple. She held her hands up in surrender.

"I said supposed to be," she reminded him quietly. She kept her voice low so only George could hear as she added, "I'm on your side, remember?"

He nodded, shaking his head to clear his thoughts. "Yeah… I know… I know…" he grumbled, pouting.

His brain still liked to conjure up unpleasant thoughts where she was concerned, but he knew he had no choice but to trust her. Or, at least, trust Fred.

He was still sulking when Fred entered the hall a short time later.

"Hey, Alicia. Hey, George," he greeted, smiling as he took his seat between them.

George smiled back, but it didn't reach his eyes, his mind preoccupied with how to tell Fred about his "study date" with Hermione.

Fred noticed immediately.

"What's wrong?" His face quickly took on a look that crossed somewhere between apprehension and anger as he studied George. When no answer was immediately forthcoming, he turned to Alicia. "What happened?"

Alicia opened her mouth to answer, but stopped herself. She'd taken a fraction of a second to decide whether or not to intervene. She chose not to. George had sent Fred to deal with her, it was his turn to deal with Fred. Fair was fair, she told herself.

"I'm going to go get my wallet," she stated coolly. "I'll be in the common room when you're ready, Fred." She excused herself and followed Hermione's example by making a hasty retreat, leaving the two brothers alone at the still-crowded breakfast table.

Fred followed Alicia's escape with his eyes, clenching his jaw in frustration. When it was obvious she had no intention of returning, he turned to George. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, tensely.

George couldn't quite meet his eye. "Hermione ambushed me," he mumbled, barely audible over the chatter of the other students around them.

Fred huffed a deep breath. He had just left Hermione outside the hospital wing. How she could have beaten him back already was a mystery to him, but it wasn't entirely impossible, he supposed. After all, much weirder things had happened at Hogwarts. Still, he was starting to tire of the drama that always seemed to follow in Hermione's wake, especially where George was concerned. He crossed his arms, fists clenched tightly against his ribs, trying to keep himself calm, though his eyes were wild with emotion in his stony face.

"Okay…" he said, his voice coming in a low rumble bordering on a growl. "Tell me what she said…"

George still didn't look at him. "She wants to study."

Fred rolled his eyes, but George ignored him, determined to explain how this wasn't his fault and that it was completely innocent – at least on his part.

"She said she knew you had a date and wanted to know what I was doing and somehow we ended up with a study date." His words came out fast and guilty in a weak parody of the lengthy explanation he'd had in his head.

At the time, the situation seemed inescapable, but as soon as the words left his mouth, he realized how lame he sounded.

Fred sat rigid and unmoving as a marble statue. His eyes, glittering with anger, were the only indication that he hadn't actually been carved of stone. In George's eyes, he looked like an effigy to some long-forgotten god of anger and punishment.

"Fred… please," he whimpered quietly.

"What do you want me to say? You were bested by a thirteen year old who's hot for you," Fred growled, anger skirting his tone despite his efforts to remain calm.

George wanted to snap back with a comment about how Alicia had bested him, but under the weight of Fred's anger he could only drop his head shamefully.

"I know."

"I don't like this," Fred warned, lowering his voice so only George could hear.

George sighed. "I knew you wouldn't…" He chanced a glance at his brother through copper lashes to see Fred was glaring at him still.

"All that fuss about me and Alicia…" Fred muttered darkly, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he struggled to control his temper.

"I didn't know what else to do."

"She wants you, you know that, right?"

"I know…" George repeated, lowering his eyes again. A long silence stretched between them as students around them chattered endlessly in overlapping conversations. It was a standoff to see who would break the silence first.

Fred won.

"Sorry, Freddie." George mumbled, truly remorseful.

Fred shook his head. "Whatever. Who am I to say what you can and can't do? Not like you're mine or anything." His voice was harsh, his words carefully chosen.

George didn't have to wonder what he meant.

"Well, let me know how your date goes," Fred said, standing to leave, his jaw still set defiantly.

"It's not a date," George protested urgently, his eyes wide and pleading for understanding as he caught Fred's arm.

Fred felt his temper decline, his face softening a bit under the weight of George's beautiful blue gaze.

"By the way," he leaned down, whispering in George's ear so only he could hear him, "if she can kiss better than me, I'll be on bottom."

George stared in shock, barely able to find his voice. "No one could be better than you." His voice was a breathy whisper and he found himself unable to fight the blush that attacked his face.

Fred smirked with perfect satisfaction as he straightened up to admire his handy work. He had always loved to see George flustered, knowing he'd just set his heart off at humming bird speeds for no apparent reason. Only now, he knew just how to pluck his brother's strings to bring him to a beautiful rose color on command, playing him until he blushed bright enough to pale his freckles.

George glanced up shyly mouthing (though not daring to say aloud) the three magic words that melted Fred's heart, burning away his anger, and setting everything right with the world. At least for the moment.

"I know. Now get going or she'll come hunt you down."

George nodded, still uneasy about the whole situation, but grateful he'd apparently been forgiven.

"And be careful," Fred warned, keeping his voice low once more. "She wants you…"

"Nothing more than holding hands," George promised quietly.

"Not even that," Fred corrected.

George nodded again, taking pleasure once more in his twin's possessive nature.

Then, just like that, the conversation ended and he watched with sorrow as Fred finally pulled himself away to go meet Alicia. Somehow, covering their tracks no longer seemed like a great idea. It no longer seemed important compared to the distance that seemed to be growing between them. He was sure he shouldn't have agreed in the first place and now… now he was going to spend the whole afternoon stuck in a library with Hermione Granger while Fred was on a "date" with Alicia Spinnet.

His love for Fred was unquestionable and he was sure, without a doubt, that Fred truly loved him as well (at the very least his temper had shown him that much), though he still wondered if that was enough. Would love hold them together when the fates seemed destined to keep testing them and throwing obstacles in their path? Would love be enough to bring them back together if the distance between them kept growing? These were the things he wasn't sure of. The things that scared him to death.

As it was, he felt that they were running a never ending obstacle course, unsure of whether it led some fantastic grand prize or their ultimate defeat. Either way, there was no turning back.

A feeling of impending doom found its way into his gut and settled there, turning over his breakfast threateningly as he glanced at the clock. He had two hours left before he was supposed to meet Hermione in the library, but with nothing better to do but worry, he decided to take a walk and mentally prepare himself for what was sure to be a long afternoon.


	15. When Things Get Too Stressful

**Author's Notes: I want to leave a quick reply to Guest starting off:**

**I don't know how to say this without sounding like I just love to have my ego stroked, but I can assure you, dear Guest, it never gets old hearing I've written a great chapter. **

**Now, I would like to say to everyone in general, I'm sure some of you are like "zomg 14 chapters and no actual sexing yet? Wtf?!" (Though no one has said that, I'm sure some are thinking it…) and to that, let me say, wtf indeed. I do not plan my stories, I write what feels right at the time and go with the flow of what's in my head and for some reason, I just haven't found the right time for super sexy time in my head yet. I think I've just had too much fun pulling the plot together and getting to know (my versions) of the characters.**

**Sorry if this has left any of you disappointed in any way. This story might not be what you expected, but I hope you still love it, nonetheless. I know it's not what I thought it would originally be, either, but in most ways, it's evolved into something better for me. **

**And now, be prepared to hate me as I lead you away from George for a moment to deal with Freddie… Off you go. Read, review, and let me know what you think, my lovelies. :)**

**P.S. Who would be interested in a Luna/Hermione fic? I know I would… Making plans for it now… ;)**

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Chapter Fifteen: When Things Get Too Stressful

Fred's blood boiled with anger and frustration as he left to rejoin Alicia in the Gryffindor common room. He had hoped in the time it took to reach his destination, his temper would have cooled off a little. That, however, seemed to be asking too much of himself. His mind raced with unpleasant images of the bushy-haired know-it-all trying to cozy up to George in the vacant library.

A million questions filtered through his head, each coming faster than the last until they overlapped themselves, throwing his mind into utter chaos.

Would she insist on sitting next to him?

Try to hold his hand?

Ask for unnecessary help to have an excuse to lean closer?

Maybe she'd be brave enough to try and steal a kiss...

Somewhere in his head, he knew that the images he was seeing were far more innocent than the ones that had tortured George when it came to Alicia, but they were no less painful or alarming.

He was sure now that her little accident in the Great Hall had been part of some elaborate rouse to get George alone for a date. He still wasn't sure how she'd managed to beat him back there to ambush George.

Sure, her ankle had only had a minor sprain. Probably not even bad enough to call it that much, but Madam Pomfrey had examined it thoroughly and diagnosed it herself. Nonetheless, there should have been no way for her to get back before him. Much less carry out an entire conversation without him interrupting them. It just didn't make sense.

He should have tried to come up with a plan of his own. Maybe he should have tried to convince his twin to switch places with him for the date? No... it was clear she knew which was which when it came to them, and she was no fan of Fred at all, so that would have failed immediately.

As he wondered, Fred found himself unable to remember most of the walk through the castle. Anxiety and adrenaline pushed him forward, keeping his body in motion even while his mind raced out of control. He found himself light headed as he lumbered on, unsure of if he was even going the right way anymore.

When he reached the common room, he wasn't sure when, or even if, he'd given the painting of the Fat Lady in the painting her cherished password, though he was sure he must have because she swung open and let him pass. He heard her grumble about his lack of gratitude for being allowed in, but somehow her voice sounded distant and distorted, like he was in a long tunnel listening to the echoes of a distant conversation.

When he spotted a dark figure sitting in the densely packed room ahead of him, he knew it had to be Alicia, though he barely recognized her. His vision had glazed over in a rosy fog, making her appear strangely soft and fuzzy around the edges. Even her sharp ebony eyes seemed to blur into her face, appearing to be no less than sunken pits staring at him. It was something out of a horror movie in his eyes, causing another jolt of anxiety to sweep over him.

He saw her mouth move, her brow furrowed in concern above the dark voided eyes, but he couldn't hear her over the sound of his own heart, beating heavily in his ears. He tried to push her away, but he could see his hands shaking at the ends of his concrete arms, too heavy to properly lift.

He could almost hear the chatter of the crowded room, but even that was dull, muted, like someone had turned the volume down behind his overly-loud pulse. He concentrated hard to hear what Alicia was saying, but, like the Fat Lady, she sounded far away and her small, childish voice barely registered.

He could tell people were starting to stare, but he couldn't see clearly enough to care too much. Each figure blended into the next. He was more focused on making sure he stayed on his feet at this point.

The room spun in his vision and he closed his eyes, feeling a sudden lack of oxygen in his lungs. He felt his stomach lurch and willed himself not to throw up in the middle of the room. Someone grabbed his hand and pulled him forward, forcing him to follow up a flight of stairs and into a room where everything fell away, melting into silence and calm.

He finally opened his eyes to find the scarlet haze had given way to darkness in the room and he felt himself being pulled down into a comfortable, jet black pit. It felt as if the earth itself was swallowing him, pulling him away from all his fear and anger into a spinning, silent void. It almost felt like falling asleep... maybe he was dying. Maybe this is what death felt like.

No.

He struggled against it, his breath coming faster.

He couldn't die.

His heart hammered painfully in his chest as he silently begged his eyes to open. They weren't listening. None of his body was. He felt numb all over and tried to force himself back to reality.

He couldn't let the sleep-like feeling claim him.

He wanted to run to George. He wanted to feel George holding him, pulling him back to earth as his numbed body threatened to float away. He needed to hear George's voice again.

He couldn't die now.

He couldn't leave George.

He opened his eyes to find he was on the floor, curled on his side in the fetal position. The muted crowd was gone and the air in this room seemed lighter, more breathable. He took in a few deep, gasping breaths, his lungs burning from the effort of it. The red haze had cleared and Alicia's face came into focus above him. Not the horror-movie face he'd seen before with sunken pits for eyes, but the image of a dark cherub, worried and panicked in the glow of the pre-afternoon sun that filtered through the window. She tried her best to look calm when she realized he was staring at her.

"Hey, there," she cooed gently, "slow down. Take deep, slow breaths. You're hyperventilating."

He blinked a few times. His head was pounding and all of a sudden her voice was suddenly too loud, booming painfully in his ears.

"Did. I," he gasped like a fish out of water, every word being forced out in a voice that was unfamiliar to him. He was drowning on the dry air that attacked his lungs with each shallow breath. "Pass. Out?"

Alicia shook her head. "Almost, but not quite."

Somehow, this didn't give him any sense of comfort. He was sure he had fainted, but apparently he'd just gotten close enough to taste the relief it would have given him to do so.

"Breathe," Alicia ordered, though her voice was still soft and comforting. She stroked the side of his face lightly, her dark fingers soothing him more than her tone.

He noticed a light floral scent from somewhere nearby and realized it was her. She had put his head on her lap at some point, his face toward her stomach. He relaxed some, focusing on the flowery fragrance of the young girl tending him.

He found himself marveling at how someone so young could be so old when she had to, taking care of him without a second thought with all the grace and love of a natural born mother.

He tried to slow his breathing and, after a few minutes, finally succeeded in steadying himself enough to sit up with some help. The room was still spinning very, very slowly. The walls seemed to wave under the pressure of some unknown force and it took him a moment to realize his entire perception of the room was still messed up.

He leaned back cautiously in hopes of finding a wall. Instead, he found he hadn't made it very far past the door before collapsing and it still stood wide open behind him.

"Is he okay?" The voice hadn't come from Alicia, which confused him in his half-dizzy state. It came from somewhere in the hall behind him. It was timid, male, and very familiar, though at the moment he couldn't quite place it.

"He's fine, Ron," Alicia said, nodding to the person behind him. She gave Fred a sorrowful look and he realized his confusion must have been apparent and pitiful for her to look at him like that.

Fred tried to compose his face and looked over his shoulder, wincing against the pain that still coursed through his temples, though it had dulled down to the point of bearable. His vision was back to normal and the room was spinning much, much slower now.

When he found Ron's face, which still took a rather concerted effort on his part thanks to his episode, he was greeted by a lopsided smile and wide, fearful blue eyes set in a stark white face. He almost wanted to laugh if he wasn't sure it would send more pain through his head. Ron looked like he'd seen a ghost, the blood drained from his face and his sparse freckles looked unnatural, like someone had polka-dotted his face with a brown marker while he slept.

"'Ey, Ron," he mumbled, smiling as best he could. His voice was sandpaper. He felt like his throat had been packed full of cotton and realized he had dried it out.

"I could use a drink," he croaked.

Ron nodded quickly, hopping up and disappearing down the hallway. It was obvious he was grateful to have something to do that would get him away from the situation while he could pretend to be helpful. He would be taking his time getting the water, that much was clear.

As soon as Ron was out of sight Fred sighed, looking back to Alicia with an expression that could only be described as pitiful, bordering on frightened. The concern on her features slowly relaxed into calm understanding.

"George?" she asked softly.

Fred nodded, feeling suddenly embarrassed. Alicia seemed to pick up on his moods far too easily.

"It's okay," she said quietly. "I used to have panic attacks too. It happens more when you're sleep-deprived."

Fred stared at her, wide-eyed and confused. The questions came far too fast again, his mind flooding with activity in a matter of seconds.

Was that what had happened to him?

Had he panicked thinking about George and Hermione?

About the thought that anyone could take George away from him?

Was he really so insecure?

Could anxiety have that much of a crippling impact on a person?

Was he really that exhausted?

He could tell from her solemn expression that she was serious and knew what she was talking about. Her eyes spoke of hidden knowledge and her voice held the steady rhythm of experience.

He found himself chuckling a little, fighting away the suffocating sensation that threatened his lungs again. "Panic attack, huh?"

She nodded.

He shook his head a little, laughing harder now. His ribs still ached lightly, but it felt good to laugh, even if he was laughing at himself. At his obvious weakness.

"Who knew? And here I thought maybe I was dying somehow. Silly me," he mumbled, his sense of humor slowly fading away.

Alicia smiled sweetly, though it didn't touch her eyes. They remained sympathetic and sad, making Fred want to hide away from her gaze.

"First time? Well, maybe it'll be your last, too. Some people, like me, are prone to them. Others only have them once or twice in their life when things get too stressful to handle."

Somehow these words were extremely comforting and Fred let them wrap around him, lifting him back up from the depths of the crippling anxiety that sat on the fringes of his mind, looking for another chance to attack.

"Hopefully," he agreed.

"Just try to relax. He loves you," Alicia reminded him.

Fred nodded carefully. "George loves me," he told himself, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of his mouth. He let the thought run through his head over and over until he couldn't help but grin, finally calm again. "Thanks," he said to Alicia who had been watching him patiently.

"No problem," she chimed her voice musical and light. "Now, think we can get out of here before Ron comes back? I'm pretty sure he thought you were dying too. Weasleys," she groaned playfully, "Nothing but drama and overreactions, the lot of you."

Fred smirked, slightly amused by Alicia's playfulness. He had forgotten about Ron for a moment. He had to admit she was right, about all of it, and he didn't want to explain what had just happened to Ron.

He also didn't want to think about the helpless, drowning sensations the panic attack had conjured in him. He just wanted to run away from the scene all together. He'd had enough for the moment.

"Let's go on our date," he said with a smile. Alicia helped him up and they quickly scrambled down the stairs and out of the common room, Fred leading the way as he aimed down the corridors deftly, looking for his favorite hidden passage into Hogsmede.

He forced all thoughts of Hermione, George, and anxiety attacks to stay behind, focusing instead on Alicia's hand, warm and solid in his, anchoring him to happy feelings as he ran. He knew he was becoming dangerously codependent where she was concerned, but he didn't care at that particular moment. They were going to have fun today and that was that, he decided, grinning back at her without slowing down.


	16. Window Shopping

**Author's Notes: Let me just say you guys are the best readers ever. Every chapter I'm encouraged and my ego is thoroughly stroked… now it's your turn. I adore you all so much and strive to give you the best I can come up with in every chapter. So, that being said, I tip my hat to all of you and get my lazy ass back to work. **

**Also, my proofreader has been kind of slacking (majorly!) because she has crappy relationships… So, I just used good old fashioned spell-check since my mind likes to fix things as I read and I never catch my own mistakes. If you see an error, please PM me about it. Thanks. **

**Now, onto part 2 of Fred and Alicia's "date"… Prepare yourselves… it's a doozy. ;)**

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Chapter Sixteen: Window Shopping

Alicia breathed in the heavily, taking in the icy scent of Hogsmede Village. She grinned unabashedly at Fred as they scanned the street, deciding which shop to visit first.

"Let's check out Zonko's," she suggested, watching his face light up with pleasure.

It wasn't hard to guess which shops Fred would prefer. Five minutes around him told you he simply wasn't the type to be caught on a romantic date at Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop when he could be poking around the Shrieking Shack or getting gag gifts at Zonko's Joke Shop.

Alicia was determined she was going to keep him happy and distracted until she could get him back to George safe and sound, and she knew just how to do it.

Fred smiled greedily as they approached Zonko's, his mind going through a large list of things he'd been saving money for. It felt like it had been ages since the twins pulled a good prank on someone and, at the moment, it seemed just the thing to do to counteract all the drama that seemed to be buzzing around them since the start of their relationship.

Once inside, Fred made a beeline for the back, filling his arms with a variety of items ranging from sugar quills (George's favorite) to his all time favorite item: dungbombs. He grabbed a bar of frog spawn soap in hopes he could talk Alicia into sneaking it in Hermione's shower supplies. Walking proudly to the counter, he dropped his haul, pulling out a hefty sum of money earned from selling George and his products over the previous weeks since school started.

"What are you getting?" he asked Alicia.

She held up a large supply of sugar quills and shrugged. "I'm not very good at pranks," she said shyly. "I really only buy these."

Fred's impish grin didn't waver, his eyes light and mischievous. "Stick with me, love. We're about to change all that. Today, you're my partner in crime and some poor sap is getting pranked," he said, laughing.

She blushed, smiling sheepishly as she nodded. "Well, you certainly need the stress relief... Whatever you say, boss!" she called, saluting before stepping up to pay for her quills.

As they left, Alicia found herself stealing shy glances at Fred, doing her best to stay discreet and unnoticed in her admiration of him. He had a determined set to his jaw as he searched the street, focused, no doubt, on looking for someone to test his newest batch of supplies on while still searching for more things to buy. Despite how crowded the snowy village was, victims for his pranks seemed in short supply today.

He didn't seem discouraged, however, as he led her to a crowded portion of the street. He stared into the shop window with the other patrons before heading away, seemingly disinterested in the products being displayed. As they slid away from the group, he inconspicuously dropped a dungbomb in the midst of the unsuspecting shoppers before slipping into a small alcove to watch as they scattered, coughing and complaining with tears in their eyes.

He let out a loud, rich laugh, his eyes watering with mirth. "That's what I'm talking about!" Fred's enthusiasm and joy was contagious and, though she honestly felt a pang of sympathy for the shoppers, she found herself laughing in spite of herself. It seemed like it had been an eternity since she'd heard him laugh so hard and that alone was reason enough for her to smile.

"Feel better?" she asked when she had finally caught her breath.

Fred nodded, grinning wide, white teeth flashing. "I needed that," he admitted shamelessly, wiping his eyes free of moisture.

Alicia sighed, shaking her head, though she was unable to wipe the smile from her own face. "Well, what now? More pranks?" she asked with a mixture of hope and fear.

Fred shook his head, putting on a pseudo-serious expression, though his eyes still danced with laughter. "No, no. This is supposed to be a date," he reminded her, smirking a little, "so we should behave ourselves" –he chuckled, struggling to keep from laughing again – "and go check out more shops?" The last part was undoubtedly a question. Alicia remembered Fred saying, when she asked him out, that he'd never been on a date before, but it had never dawned on her that he might have no clue what to really do on a date.

"Shopping sounds nice," she agreed, flashing him a bright smile.

Encouraged, he pulled her hand, bouncing back out into the snowy street which, by now, was remarkably clear due to the dungbomb.

She sighed to herself, forcing her eyes down on the blindingly white snow that crunched beneath her feet as she walked. She was a fan of shopping. Or, more specifically, window shopping. Browsing items you either can't afford or don't have the nerve to buy. In her eyes, her relationship with Fred was just another form window shopping. She told herself it was okay to look as long as she didn't touch without the intention to buy and, well, George had made it clear that Fred was one item she could not afford.

Still, despite her willingness to help him and George be together, she still found herself relentlessly attracted to Fred. Seeing him like this, happy, alive, and ready to cause trouble didn't help that attraction fade. She silently cursed Fred for his nearly irresistible draw on her and told herself to be thankful just to be his friend after she'd brazenly forced her way into his private life.

Somehow she'd found it impossible to shake his memories as they floated freely in her head, mingling with her own. She had honestly tried to fight them off. Instead of going away, shifting out of her conscious mind like other people's memories usually did, she found herself daydreaming. She used his memories of intimate moments with George as ammunition for her own desires. She watched the snow, too afraid to focus on anything else as her mind wandered through Fred's memories, replacing George with herself.

_It was her pushing Fred into the wall, holding him there with her body as she attacked him with passionate kisses, pulling his angelic voice out in lustful moans._

_Her hands wandering his body, memorizing every muscle and curve with her fingers. _

_Her dominating him. _

_Filling him with lust._

_Showing him the power of love and fear._

She paid little attention to her surroundings, moving mutely as they walked, making their way into Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. She mulled over the selection of quills and stationary, though she wasn't really seeing them as her mind continued the scenario, meticulously reenacting it right up to just before things went wrong.

She felt bad for George, but also admired him for making it through that kind of heart-breaking rejection. She was sure she couldn't have been that strong. If it hadn't been for the amazing depth of unspoken emotion she'd felt when she read Fred's mind, she would probably not have made it through her own rejection with a smile.

It had not escaped her attention that the morning after George's rejection brought with it a fist fight, fierce and feral, in the doorway of the Great Hall. Of course, now she knew the cause and it made more sense. All of it. Especially Fred's reaction to Hermione.

They left the Quill Shop and Fred grinned down at her, unintentionally urging her lustful mind on. She smiled in return, pink-faced under natural honey-hue.

_It was her on that ugly yellow couch in the unfamiliar room, firelight dancing over her face as Fred kissed her slow and sweet. _

_He sent her heart singing and her voice calling out, echoing musically off the stone walls. _

_She was the one making his mind melt with pleasure as she kissed him, sinful desire bubbling over in the dark, hidden room. _

_Her hips pressed to his._

_Her making him fall apart._

_He called __her__ name._

She could see the sign of the next shop they were entering, but the letters looked foreign and unreadable to her as she lost herself in fantasy. This time she hadn't even bothered to pretend to look at the shop's merchandise, instead opting to stand near the door. She found herself discretely examining Fred, memorizing him with her eyes, as he paid for yet another purchase. She began wondering what it would be like if this were a real date.

Would he have kissed her afterward? Would he kiss her like he does George, losing himself to the sheer joy of it? Would he feel shame and guilt if she kissed him back? Would it have felt right to him to kiss her? She couldn't be sure... for all she knew, Fred was only interested in men, but something about him told her that most likely wasn't the case. It wasn't that he liked men; it was that he liked George. Of course, she could be sure… all she had to do was kiss him, show him the passion building inside her, but that would be futile. He'd just push her away. Even if he didn't he'd go back to George when all was said and done. Wouldn't he?

She pushed the debate aside, telling herself it was for another time as she slipped back into her inappropriate fantasizing.

_It was her on their bed, grinding down on his lap, pushing him further as he stripped her clothes off and tossed them on the floor. _

_Her chest he lavished attention on, causing her to arch with wild abandon, pushing herself closer to him in the safety of a locked and silenced dorm room._

_His body against hers._

_His hands on her hips._

They left another shop, one she hadn't even realized they'd been in as she followed him blindly. Her mind was daring her to go further with her x-rated visions. This time she didn't stop when things went awry, though she should have.

"_This okay, 'Licia?" his voice would ask, husky with passion, pulling lightly on the waistband of her jeans. _

_She would nod, black eyes meeting blue. There would be love in their gaze. _

_Then, he'd stand, lifting her effortlessly in strong, stable arms before turning and flipping her onto the bed. _

In her version, her fantasy, there were no tears. No look of pain or torment like she'd seen in his memory. No. She was not George, emotions wild and free no matter the situation. She was more reserved.

She felt a burning heat rise through her from the pit of her stomach and smiled. Only Fred had ever had this affect on her, making her think terrible, lustful things simply by being in existence.

"Alicia," Fred called, his voice singsong, breaking into her reverie with the force of an earthquake.

She raised her head, her brain clearing slowly as she realized they had stopped walking. Fred was staring at her, an amused look fixed on his face. She tried not to look at him, checking instead to see where they were now. She knew she should know, that she should have been paying attention, but she'd let herself get carried away, her brain becoming a run away train of lust as she trusted him not to let her get lost in the middle of Hogsmede.

They had stopped in a back alley, she supposed on the way to another shop. Fred liked to take alleyway shortcuts when he could, though why was never entirely clear to her – or anyone else for that matter. Maybe George knew why.

George. She had almost forgotten about him for a split second. She sighed, reminded that no matter how detailed or amazing the visions were, Fred was taken. She was simply window shopping in her head. She couldn't compete with George. No one could.

She could feel the heat in her face as she cursed herself again. She wanted to feel guilty about her thoughts, but her hormones disagreed, especially under his vibrant blue gaze. She shouldn't have been day dreaming, but it had been a long day, she still hadn't slept. She wasn't being as cautious and guarded as she normally would have been.

"So, what was so important in there," he poked her playfully in the temple, his voice teasing "that you tuned me and the rest of the world out?"

Alicia blinked, feigning ignorance through her blush, "I don't know what you mean."

He would have expected to see her usual wide, innocent expression about now, but instead, she looked away, hiding her eyes under long lashes as if he could tell what had been going through her mind just by looking at them.

Fred rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Right, sure you don't. I could have been leading you straight into the Forbidden Forest and you wouldn't have noticed," he teased. "C'mon, tell me what you were thinking."

She blushed brighter and shook her head.

"Okay... I'll guess, then," Fred challenged, grinning.

Alicia smirked then. "Go for it. Not like you can cheat –" she joked.

"Like you," he added, making light of her mind-reading abilities.

"Like me," she agreed, grinning.

Fred shrugged. "Maybe not, but," he grabbed either side of her face in an ironic parody of what she'd done the night before when she had cheated. Her heart skipped a beat, remembering all too well how this exact scenario had led to her stealing her first kiss from him when a simple touch would have done. She tried to stay relaxed, though. She knew Fred was too shy and virtuous to do something like that – unlike her.

He stopped a moment, reading her face carefully. He took in her dark, ebony eyes and realized her eyes told it all, wide and lust blown above blushing cheeks. It was the same look George got when they were hot and heavy in the bedroom. The face was different, darker, softer, more feminine, but the look... there was no denying that look. It was a look that always drove him crazy on George, let him know he was doing things right and now, he found, it apparently worked on Alicia as well.

He felt the blood start to rush downward, causing a slight strain in his jeans as he stared at her, knowing this sweet, angelic girl had been thinking less than angelic thoughts.

His pupils dilated and he felt a primal need swell within him, assuring him it would be fine to throw her against the side of a building and ravage her. He could almost see it now, pushing her against cold brick, her icy hands in his above her head as he devoured her full, honey-toned lips. He could still remember the way she smelled from earlier that day – _like flowers_, his traitorous brain supplied, in case he'd somehow forgotten.

He wondered how she'd taste. How would his name sound spilling from her innocent lips? Would she fight him off as he'd done with George the first time, or would she let him take her, digging her fingers into his shoulders as he traced her budding body with his finger tips? She was so pure and sweet and untainted…

He felt his resistance slipping and let her go before he could act, fighting down a quick blush and willing his now-hard length to go down with a quick, silent curse.

'_You almost fucked up,' _he told himself, eyes shifting to the ground. He wasn't sure what expression he wore anymore. He couldn't help but wonder who Alicia had been thinking of to earn such an erotic gaze, though some small part of him knew.

It took several long minutes – feeling more like hours – for Fred to regain his composure, but, to his surprise, he somehow managed. He chuckled then, clearing his throat.

"Well, judging by your face I'd say you were thinking about a boy."

She blushed again, a new wave of scarlet and crimson coating her face.

Damn that blush for stirring a new current of desire in him. Fred went on playfully, knowing he had to get out of dangerous waters fast. As it was, he could barely look at her without getting urges that George would surely castrate him for if he were to ever find out.

"So, I know it was a boy" he repeated, looking for a way to turn this into some kind of joke and ease the tension. Thankfully, he was an expert at twisting almost any situation with humor. "Let me just say, I for one am shocked that you moved on so fast! And on our first date, too!" He made a face of mock pain.

She giggled at that, her voice mimicking wind chimes and music and a million other fascinatingly magical sounds in his ears.

"Oh come on, not like you're that hard to get over," she teased, sticking her tongue out.

He kept himself in check and made a sound of shock, his mouth dropping open in fake indignation.

"Well, I never!"

"There there," she said, patting him gently on the arm with a grin. "You'll find a way to go on without me."

They stared at each other for a moment, both thinking the same thing – _"I hope not…"_ – before bursting into laughter under the tension of the situation. They laughed long a hard, the icy air burning their lungs and numbing their noses as they gasped for breath, struggling to compose themselves.

"So," Fred ventured at length, "Tell me it's not Draco Malfoy or some other Slytherin. They're all useless scum," he added, unnecessarily.

She wrinkled her nose, staring at him like he had gone completely mad. "No way! Definitely a Gryffindor!" she defended with pride.

They both grinned.

"Ah, Oliver Wood," Fred teased.

She simply shook her head this time. "Closer, but no."

"Lee Jordan?" he tried again.

"Nope," Alicia returned, popping the 'p' in perfect parody of Fred.

Fred chuckled, going through a few more names. Each was met with a resounding "no" from Alicia when he finally gave up.

His guessing game had worked fantastically. The tension between them had gone. By now they were both suffering early signs of frost bite and needed to escape the cold.

"Ready to head back?" he asked, jerking his thumb in the general direction of the castle.

Alicia nodded, though thinking of the castle reminded her once more of George, which, in turn, reminded her that this had not been a real date. She sighed, her breath escaping in a great white cloud.

"Yeah. Let's go," she mumbled, scooping her bag up from where she'd dropped it in the snow. You could almost see the joy draining out of her as she twisted the plastic shopping bag in her numb fingers.

Her sudden mood swing weighed heavy on Fred and he shot her a sideways glance as he grabbed his own bags. He told himself not to say anything stupid, but found himself speaking anyway.

"For what it's worth," he said, starting off down the trail so quickly she had to jog to catch up, "if I had been born alone, I would have chosen you..." He shot her a sad, sweet smile full of unspoken apologies and infinite meaning. Tears immediately sprang to Alicia's eyes, spilling over without warning.

"Why'd you have to say that?!" she cried, punching him in the arm. She hid her face as the hot tears slid down her cheeks, threatening to freeze there for the whole world to see. He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as they walked.

"Sorry, love. Didn't mean to make you cry... just being honest. You're a hell of a best friend, though."

She nodded, sniffling as she fought to regain control, leaning her head against his shoulder lightly. "Being the best friend sucks," she whined, pouting. "George is lucky." It came out a whisper, but Fred heard her loud and clear.

Fred smirked, nodding. "Yeah... I know... I'm quite a catch, eh?"

She giggled, still sniffling, and pulled away to deliver another playful punch.


	17. Plan A - Veritaserum

**Author's Notes: This chapter started off very short and just expanded as I did my usual editing… It's now the longest chapter to date. **

**Sorry for jumping all over on this story, but I'm trying to cover all my bases. If it's confusing to anyone, just know, it's not intentional and my poor little brain has tried it's best to make things as smooth and readable as possible.**

**So, enjoy, review, and let me know how awesome or horrible I am.**

**Update: Fixed some typing errors I found. Sorry about that.**

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Chapter Seventeen: Plan A - Veritaserum

George had wasted as much time as humanly possible doing absolutely nothing before his study date. He'd walked the school grounds, trudging through the ever-deepening snow banks until he could feel frost bite threatening his limbs and numbing his mind, forcing him to retreat back to the warmth of the castle. He'd wandered the corridors from the dungeon to the fifth floor with no destination in mind until he felt the need for fresh air and found himself back outside once more.

He wasted almost a full two hours this way, wandering and refusing to let himself think about much of anything. This is how he prepared himself to deal with a long afternoon in the library, forced into the company of Hermione while Fred was out tramping around Hogsmede with Alicia.

When he finally arrived at the library, George was ten minutes late. Hermione was already there, slumped over a small table situated in a nearly-hidden corner of the library's main room. If he hadn't been looking for her, he probably would have skimmed right over her.

He approached with all the caution one might use when encountering a lioness in the wild. Looking around he was not surprised to find that, as expected – or planned on Hermione's part – they were alone. He took note of two bottles of what appeared to be butterbeer placed side by side at the table, one in front of her, the other in front of a vacant seat to her right.

"Hey, 'Mione," he greeted, trying to sound more enthusiastic than he felt. He rounded the table to take a seat across from her, despite the obvious implication the bottle made as to where he should sit. Hermione grinned at him in return.

"Hi, George," she chirped cheerfully, "thought you stood me up." In spite of the light accusation, her face read nothing but sheer joy at the sight of him and he felt his stomach turn uneasily. He was quickly wishing he could have just turned her down.

Fred's warning rang in his mind, _"Be careful. She wants you..."_

Her happiness at seeing him had somehow still managed to push another wave of guilt over him, however and he worked his face into what he hopes was a cheerfully casual smile.

He had made it a point to not make a plan to ditch her, knowing it would be a futile effort. He surely hadn't thought of waiting in his room under the protection of the locking charm until long past the time their date was supposed to be before running to regroup with Fred and Alicia in Hogsmede Village.

No, George Weasley was too nice for that kind of thing – everyone knew that.

He would never have thought out such a horrible plan...

Especially when he knew Hermione well enough to know that she would either just ambush him again later or use her own knowledge of charms to seek him out and demand an explanation for standing her up.

Instead, there he sat uncomfortably across from her in the vacant library. Like he'd said he would. He shifted, unable to sit still, and tried to ignore her over zealous eyes scanning over him like some science experiment she was dying to get her hands on.

About five minutes had passed before he could stand no more of the silence, her stare, and the sheer isolation of the place. He cleared his throat.

"So, what're you studying?" he asked. His voice was guarded and edgy as his eyes shifted to the door unconsciously.

She smiled, holding up her History of Magic book. Suddenly her smile faded, replaced by a confused stare around the floor of the table.

"Where are your books?" she asked.

George jumped, startled by her question.

Books.

He knew he had forgotten something important.

"I... uh... studied after breakfast," he lied, trying to cover his tracks. He was afraid she'd mistake his absentmindedness for interest or eagerness to see her. His fears were confirmed when she set him with a sly grin, blushing profusely.

"You didn't plan to study today," she accused sounding somehow embarrassed and overjoyed at the same time.

He swallowed hard, not liking where this was going.

"Yeah..." he confessed. "I really just didn't want to go to Hogsmede. Thanks for the out, 'Mione."

Her grin faded.

"Oh. You're welcome," she mumbled, returning attention to her book. After a few more minutes of unbearable silence, George spoke up again.

"So... uh... you brought drinks?"

Hermione nodded sharply, grabbing the butterbeer meant for him and handing it over. George muttered a quick "thanks" and, ignoring the fact it was already opened, began chugging freely. He had never understood the phrase 'awkward' up until this very instant. An indescribable tension hung heavy in the air and the sheer pressure of the situation had made his throat go dry.

Hermione watched him drink through her dark lashes, a small smile playing on her round face. She waited for him to place the bottle back on the table before closing her book, leaning across the table to prop her head on her elbows. She was blatantly studying him.

"Good stuff?" she asked innocently.

George nodded, even as his stomach flipped over again. It took very little time for him to notice something was wrong. He was starting to feel a bit off, his stomach turning from more than just unease. He felt his thoughts start to race, though his heart stayed calm.

No... not thoughts.

Memories.

Thoughts could be manufactured and original. What was happening in his head was merely a slideshow of things that had already happened, flickering across the wall of his mind at breakneck speed.

Joining in with the acceleration of his unbidden memories, he could also feel every emotion he'd ever known bubbling up in him. Once again, his heart stayed calm.

He wanted to panic. It would be normal to panic right now. He found himself unable to separate that particular emotion from the rest and fought down the urge to scream. He was relieved to know his frustration was working just fine.

Something was definitely wrong with him he decided.

Very wrong.

He was far too logical and calm. He was never this logical or calm.

"What's in this?" he asked, holding up the butterbeer bottle suspiciously.

Hermione looked startled, picking up her own drink and eyeing it for dramatic effect. She took an experimental swig and shrugged.

"Just butterbeer," she answered as if it should have been obvious. "I bought extra at the Hog's Head last time I was in Hogsmede,'" she went on, explaining it away.

"Oh..." George took another small, experimental sip of his to find he'd already almost emptied the bottle. He played with the liquid before swallowing; rolling it across his tongue in search for anything unusual that might tell him what was going on.

Nothing. He tasted nothing unusual. Just the light, buttered candy taste that was the signature of butterbeer.

She'd only used three drops of the water-like potion anyway, but, despite her vast knowledge, she had brought the whole vial in her bag just in case it wasn't enough to get George talking. She also didn't want to risk someone accidentally finding them, exposing her as a thief. Unfortunately, even Hermione couldn't be expected to know exactly how much veritaserum to use in only her third year of school, though most students in her year – and even up to sixth year in some cases – didn't even know what the potion was to begin with.

"Why do you ask?" she asked, watching him with a wrinkled nose, taking a quick pull off her own bottle.

With her head tilted back, she allowed herself a quick glance to her book bag, feeling slightly victorious. He was suspicious, but she'd planned well, knowing veritaserum was tasteless, colorless, and virtually undetectable.

"I'm not sure, but I feel like someone might have tampered with my drink," George replied, unthinking.

He had meant to say "No reason" or something equally less controversial, but for some reason the truth had rolled out instead. His eyes widened when he realized he'd all but accused Hermione of poisoning him.

He expected her to be angry. To yell at him or cry at the accusation. Instead she answered with a Cheshire grin. The potion was working.

"Oh, don't be silly," she giggled, waving her hand like she could shoo the implications away. "You're just being paranoid, don't you think?"

George found himself nodding against his will, his mouth working on its own again. "Probably. I've been increasingly paranoid and emotional lately." He blushed, fighting the urge to slap his hand over his mouth.

Yes, something was most definitely wrong with him.

"Sorry to hear that," she replied. "So, what's your favorite food?" she asked conversationally.

George's mind flashed images of all the food he liked and he found himself answering, "I pretty much like all food. You learn not to be picky in a family my size."

Why was he volunteering more than he intended? He felt his heartbeat start to pick up as his emotions slowly settled and overdue panic finally set in.

"I can understand that," Hermione went on, opening her book again and pretending to read.

George took the momentary distraction to try to leave. "I really have to go," he said, trying to slide away from the table, still holding on to some semblance of politeness in the wake of his rising panic and anxiety.

"Why?" Hermione asked, grabbing his wrist with a firm grip bordering on possessive.

_'To get my books,' _he lied in his head.

What came out was, "I feel like I'm losing my mind. You're really starting to freak me out and I really want get the hell out of here before I say something incredibly stupid."

Hermione's chocolate eyes narrowed at his admission. He tried to pull away, feeling her grip on his wrist tighten painfully. The fire in her eyes told him she was just this side of staying sane and he felt a flutter of fear rise in a wave of bile toward his throat.

"You should sit back down, George. You aren't making any sense," she said. Her tone left no room for argument. Reluctantly, he sat again.

She released him immediately, watching with a hint of sorrow as he rubbed his sore wrist, staring at her saucer-eyed. She wanted to feel sorry for him, but she was already in too deep and she was not stopping now.

"So, how about books?" She picked up where she'd left off, though her glare had already returned to something cold and demanding. Her look alone was enough to tell him she had done this, whatever it was, to him. He found himself trapped in her gaze, feeling far too much like a mouse being watched by a hungry cat. He was silently wishing Fred would come in and rescue him right about then. He knew it wasn't going to happen.

His mind shifted from wanting to be rescued to wanting to wire his jaw shut. Unfortunately his mouth seemed intent on answering everything he was asked whether he wanted to or not.

"Books." Hermione stated again, impatience edging her voice. "What kind of books do you like?"

"I don't read much outside of school, but I'm really into Muggle comics. I found a stash of vintage Spider Man books my dad has been collecting since the sixties," he rattled off, unthinking. He had only a moment to realize he'd somehow kept from answering her the first time.

Hermione's grin finally returned as she giggled at his admission. She was trying to keep it light, sticking to small talk and working her way up until she was sure the potion had reached its peak of effectiveness.

George tried to keep his breathing even as his heart raced painfully now. _'It's okay. As long as she doesn't ask anything about crushes or relationships or anything that makes me think of Fred, I should be fine...' _he told himself. It did little to lessen his out of control anxiety as he wracked his brain for anything she could have done that would be causing this. If he could find a cause, maybe he could find a way to fight it.

"So," Hermione began again.

George braced himself for the next question. He wanted to formulate a plan of escape, but whatever she had put in his drink kept his mind racing and unable to think clearly until she asked a question. Her eyes continued to keep him glued to his seat sending a tidal wave of fear over him. There was no way to plan in his current state and he was afraid a bolt for the door would get him hit with a stunning spell.

"What's your favorite color?"

He breathed a sigh of relief, though his fear refused to subside. Still, it was another innocent question. Nothing to worry about. He decided to test the strength of whatever was affecting him, hoping he could overpower it if he just tried hard enough.

_'Green! Green! Green!'_ he chanted silently, trying to force the word beyond his lips. It was there, he could feel it. If he could just lie. Just one little lie –

"Blue," he stated simply, his mind bringing up images of the sparkling sapphire eyes he loved so much.

Fred's eyes.

Crap.

Then, the truthful possession that had overtaken him took things a step further as his body betrayed him, forcing a wistful smile to his lips. For a moment, his anxiety and worries were cleared away by the thought of Fred. Hermione quirked an eyebrow, taking notice of the sudden change in him immediately.

"Blue? I would have assumed red. Why blue?" she asked, fixating on him with avid interest.

George felt like his heart would explode in his chest as his panic returned full force.

This was a dangerous question.

He knew that now.

He was still thinking of Fred.

He didn't want to answer.

He didn't want to be honest.

He wanted to lie.

He clenched his jaw shut tight with painful force. He focused on the pain, pushing Fred's visage away and out of his mind.

Hermione watched him carefully, her mouth twitching a little at the delay. He was trying to fight it, she could tell.

"Why is blue your favorite color?" she asked again, trying to keep her tone light.

At the second repetition of the question he was unable to stop himself.

"I love blue eyes!" he burst out. He blinked, surprised and relieved all at the same time. He hadn't said _"Fred's eyes"_. Somehow, he'd side-stepped it. Pain… pain had helped him side-step the question. He hadn't lied, but he'd gotten away with a half truth and that was closer.

This gave him an idea. It was a muddled, half-thought idea, but he decided if he could control his thoughts enough, through force of will or distraction of pain, maybe, just maybe, he could get out of this without exposing too much.

Hermione looked at the table in front of her, not really seeing it as she processed the information and formulated her next question. If he was finding a way to fight the potion it was time to cut the general trivia and get right to the point. Her face flushed, but her obvious control over the situation – over George – made her bold enough to push on.

"Do you have someone you like?"

It was a question George had dreaded. To the point with no way around it. It wasn't just a dangerous question, it was a lethal one.

George clenched his jaw again to buy himself a moment to empty his mind as much as possible, pushing down as many thoughts and emotions as he was able to before answering. He added to it by pinching his thigh under the table, twisting the skin until he felt tears prick his eyes. He focused on the pain in his leg and his jaw, letting his mind know nothing but the pain. Letting himself forget the name "Fred" even existed.

When the pain in his jaw became too much, he had no choice but to relax and his mouth immediately ran away with him again.

"Yes. I'm deeply in love with someone at the moment." He sighed heavily, his breath heaving in and out of his chest. Relief shook him head to toe and he knew he'd found a way to get out this in one piece.

Hermione frowned. She'd hoped for a simple yes or no, but the word "love" gave her both a sense of trepidation comingling with vague, unadulterated hope.

"Am I allowed to know who you're in love with?" she asked, smiling slyly. She hoped for a name, _her_ name (despite the fact she didn't have blue eyes), but she failed to realize it was the wrong question. Or rather, it was the right question phrased the wrong way.

George caught it.

Hermione was taken aback as George grinned. She could feel a rush of hope swell through her at the sight of his grin.

His answer was ready with or without whatever was forcing him to be so painfully honest. No need to clear his head for this one.

"No. It's a secret. No one can know," he stated, feeling victorious.

Hermione's face fell.

A secret?

Not her. That was clear.

She was at a loss, feeling herself losing the upper hand in the interrogation. His answer had flustered her unexpectedly. For a moment she forgot about the veritaserum and her mission.

"You can tell me! What're you afraid of?" she chided, her face pouting unconsciously.

George wasn't ready, still reveling in her mistake and his victory. The question caught him totally off guard. His defenses were down from the one tiny triumph over her. He felt stupid as he found he didn't have time to stop himself this time. He felt the words fly out of his mouth beyond his control.

"I'm afraid of being alone. I grew up in a huge family, born with Fred at my side. I've never been alone. The whole concept of being completely alone terrifies me beyond belief."

His eyes were wide and horrified as he spoke, afraid of what he might say. His answer left them both silent. He hadn't known that about himself. He was sure his answer would have had something to do with losing Fred, though, he supposed, if you heard it in the right context, it really did.

Hermione gathered her thoughts carefully. To George's surprise she refused to look at him now, her face slowly taking on a pink tint. She looked somehow sweet and innocent.

He was glad to be free of her weighted stare, but was suspicious of the blush.

She was going to ask the wrong thing. She was going to ask something she didn't really want to know. He just knew it.

"Do you like me?" she asked timidly. Her voice came out a whisper, so quiet he wasn't entirely sure he'd heard her until he found himself answering under the pull of the veritaserum.

"I like you as a friend," he answered with forced honesty. He knew the words, no matter how simple or kind, were painful to her. He didn't want to hurt her. Even if she was scaring the living hell out him, he took no pleasure in hurting her like this.

"Oh..." she nodded slowly, making no move to hide her disappointment. "I think I need to go now," she mumbled, refusing to meet his eye as she gathered her books.

"I'm sorry, Hermione." A sad smile played on his angelic face.

She kept her eyes averted, her heart aching.

"Why?"

George's smile didn't waver and he didn't fight the truth as it came spilling past his lips. Some things were easy to be honest about.

"Because if I wasn't already in love, I'd probably be interested. At least a little," he admitted. "I'm very flattered you like me like that. You don't really love me, though."

Hermione's eyes snapped to his face and she found herself staring at him with a mixture of awe and terror as tears rose, unbidden to her chocolate eyes.

"I'm not giving up yet," she challenged, swinging her bag over her shoulder with practiced grace.

George's smile faded to a sad frown. "You should."

"Why?" she asked again, staring at him like he'd grown a second head.

He knew, Fred or not, he could never see Hermione as more than a friend. Any relationship they had would be doomed before it even began. At the very least because he knew Ron liked her too much. She was fighting a losing battle and he needed her to understand that. She needed to give up on him. He suddenly didn't care that she had obviously drugged him to milk him for information (though the fact had definitely taught him not to trust her so easily). He just wanted her to understand that she could, in no fathomable way on earth, ever win this battle.

George shrugged, his face sad and piteous, "You can't win. No matter what you do, you just can't win."

She couldn't stand it anymore. His face told a lengthy story about how much he pitied her then. She broke away, glaring down at him defiantly.

"Maybe not," she agreed. _S_he turned away from the object of her affection, racing for the door.

Plan A had succeeded and failed in so many ways. She knew more about George, which, initially had been the point. In the end, she was sure he'd still found a way to fight the veritaserum, leaving her with more questions than answers. Now, she had no choice.

She paused in the vacant hallway to check her bag, making sure the vials were still there. She took a moment to stare at them, cursing the veritaserum as a failure as she fixated on the muddy liquid in the second vial.

If he wouldn't tell her who the competition was, he would sure as hell spill his guts to Fred.

The polyjuice potion was her last hope now.

Time for plan B.


	18. Plan B – Interrupted

Chapter Eighteen: Plan B – Interrupted

Hermione had left her date with George determined to carry out plan B. She made sure she had the polyjuice potion ready, adding the bits of Fred's hair she'd obtained, and watching it turn a brilliant orange color. She glared at the potion when she realized it sparkled in the sun, reflecting his essence as something beautiful to be admired.

She had everything prepared and had nothing to do but find a nice, secluded area, take the potion, and confront George without getting caught. Easy, right?

Wrong.

She entered her room, filling in the blanks of her plan such as where and when to confront George, only to find Minerva McGonagall staring her down. The elderly woman had been waiting for a while it seemed, standing with her hard, emerald eyes focused on the door.

"How's your ankle, Miss Granger?" she asked, pressing her thin, wrinkled mouth into a tight line.

Hermione smiled sheepishly, a nervous chuckle escaping her lips. "It's fine. A little sore, but I can walk."

Professor McGonagall smiled, though it didn't touch her eyes. "Good. And how has your semester been? That double schedule you took must be pretty tough."

Hermione shrugged casually, fighting her limbs into submission as she started to tremble. "It's been fine. The time-turner has been a great help," she volunteered, smiling timidly.

"Wonderful to hear," Professor McGonagall returned stiffly. "Speaking of which, may I have it back?"

It wasn't a question. She held her hand out, waiting expectantly as Hermione lifted the delicate gold chain off her neck with shaky hands. She handed it over, feeling a sudden jolt of panic.

"Hopefully I can give this back," she mused, eyeing the time-turner in her wrinkled grasp. "Follow me." Again, it was an order.

Hermione nodded nervously, moving to take off her book bag. If she could just leave it behind with the potions in it maybe there was still hope…

"Bring your bag."

The order was clear and Hermione realized, looking around her still immaculate half of the dorm, that she was definitely caught. Plan B would not only fail… it would never happen.

She'd had no way of knowing that her actions had been noticed. She'd assumed that Professor Snape would have noticed by now that his precious potions have been lifted. He had a well-known habit of checking his precious supplies every day, but she was well-known for following the rules. She hadn't expected anyone to be suspicious of her – especially not this early.

She tried to figure out where she had gone wrong.

She'd not been seen entering the classroom, she was sure of that.

She'd been careful to relock the door to the cabinet, hadn't she?

To her knowledge, wizards didn't use traditional investigative techniques such as finger printing or DNA analysis, so there had been no reason to wear gloves or tuck away her hair. So, how had they caught her?

The slow march through the common room was brutal. Professor McGonagall moved at a snail's pace, Hermione in tow.

Hermione ducked her head defensively as every Gryffindor who hadn't chosen to go to Hogsmede that day stared her down. Everywhere she looked, she was greeted with angry glares and crossed arms. Even the few people she'd had the luxury of claiming as friends looked mutinous as she passed them.

Only Ron looked sympathetic as he raced to her side, bravely ignoring the stares that followed.

"They searched our rooms," he whispered, his voice panicked and frantic.

"Go away, Ron," Hermione snapped back. Her face was flushed from embarrassment as she kept her head low, hoping her frizzy hair would hide her from the world.

Ron ignored her, going on frantically as if he'd been given the veritaserum by mistake. "Snape is missing two potions. Important ones, though no one is quite sure which ones. They thought Fred and George took 'em at first – for a prank or something – but –"

Hermione's head snapped up, her eyes wild with panic at the mention of the twins.

Had they been taken, too?

She scanned the crowd. They weren't there. Either of them. Where were they?

Had she accidentally gotten George in trouble, accused of something she'd done?

"Is… are they okay?" she asked quietly.

Ron nodded. "Turns out they both have alibis. Fred's on a date and George was seen in the library. But now they're questioning everyone, asking about unusual behavior and whatnot. Your fight with Fred came up and some people said your accident in the Great Hall was all an act, but I told them off!" He puffed up as he spoke, but quickly deflated again, rushing on, "Still, some people have been talking… they think you did it!"

She stared at him as if she hadn't heard a word he'd said. His bright blue eyes were a mixture of concern and anger after his last sentence and she didn't have to venture far to guess he'd adamantly defended her against all the accusations.

She did her best to smile as she began to accept the fact that she'd risked everything for her love –

No, love wasn't the right word. She knew that now. Obsession was more fitting.

She'd risked it all for her obsession with George and, now, it wouldn't matter if he ever noticed her the way she'd hoped. She was probably getting kicked out of Hogwarts for good, sent back to the Muggle world.

'_Back to Hell,_' her mind supplied.

She would have to let go of George if that happened.

All of her friends…

Even Ron …

The thought of losing George hurt. Losing any of her friends seemed unbearable, but, to her surprise, the thought of losing Ron was the most painful thing she could ever imagine. She'd never taken time to notice how much she really adored the little pest before now.

"Tell them you were with me," Ron whispered, nodding to her like it was a fantastic cover story that would automatically absolve her of all wrong doing she might be accused of.

She shook her head, feeling tears spring to her eyes. He was willing to help her, even after she'd been rude and neglectful to him for months. She didn't deserve his kindness. She didn't deserve him. It didn't make sense. Unless…

She refused to let her mind take her down that path.

Ron didn't love her.

He couldn't.

Not now.

Not if she was going to be forced out of Hogwarts and back to London where magic – for all they knew – didn't exist.

"Don't lie for me. I'll be fine," she whispered, the words turning to ash in her mouth. She dropped her gaze and hurried forward. Professor McGonagall led her through the door and down the corridor in silence.

She didn't bother trying to think of a way to get out of it. She saw the damage that had been done in the angry faces of her fellow housemates. She'd messed up. She'd been blinded by her obsession (she knew better than to call it love now) and it was time to take responsibility. She steadied herself and prepared to face her punishment with honesty and what little dignity she had left.

.~*~.

George had sat in the library for as long as possible waiting for the effects of the veritaserum to wear off. By the time he felt some speck of normalcy returning to his thinking, it was dark in the castle and his stomach ached with hunger.

He made his way to the Great Hall to see it was empty. Nothing remained but the house elves were left behind, clearing the tables for the next day's breakfast.

He sighed. Just as well, he told himself, he wasn't hungry anyway.

He didn't bother wasting his time wandering the castle, knowing that by now Fred and Alicia would be back from their day in Hogsmede. They'd promised him full disclosure upon their return and he found he was overly anxious to hear about their day.

He took the steps two at a time, feeling lighter and more normal by the second as he climbed higher and higher into the old, stone-walled structure. He found himself taking off at a canter whenever he finally found his way to the seventh floor corridor, racing to the Fat Lady and rushing out the password. He ran past the painting, his heart jumping as he ran through the common room.

He didn't notice the crowd, or the fact that every Gryffindor in the castle seemed to be standing in the common room. His mind was focused only on getting to his room as fast as possible. He was more than ready to see Fred again after the horrific "date" he'd had to endure with Hermione.

He found himself clinging to the morbid hope that things had gone badly for Alicia and Fred as well. Maybe they'd been caught in an unannounced snowball war, killing any chance for her to start something romantic with Fred? It was sick to hope for such things, he knew as much, but he couldn't help it. He didn't want to be the only one who had a terrible day. He especially didn't want to think about what it might mean, or how Alicia might have misconstrued it, if the date had actually gone well.

He had very nearly made it to his and Fred's room when someone stepped on the back of his robe, tripping him in his blind haste. His robe caught at his throat, knocking the wind out of him and yanking him backward with all the grace of a wooden beam falling straight over.

George landed hard in the hallway, his head bouncing off a pair of faded sneakers. He gasped, catching his breath as his eyes blurred back into focus.

"What did you do, George?"

He blinked, twisting his head back. He was greeted by angry, freckled features inlaid with piercing blue eyes and topped by a mop of unruly copper.

"Ron?"

His younger brother stepped back, letting his head fall off of his shoes and thump rudely against the floor. "I said what did you do?!" Ron repeated fiercely, his face coloring with anger.

George's mouth formed a tight little o of confusion, his brows knitted together, as he tried to process the question. "What?" he asked at length, unable to make heads or tails of his (normally timid) little brother's rage.

"Hermione," Ron barked roughly, his face twisting with emotion. "She's been carted off by Professor McGonagall. Saw some bloke from the Ministry here too."

George's eyebrows slowly raised as realization dawned on him. Hermione was in trouble. Big trouble if the Ministry of Magic was involved. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head as he turned to face Ron.

"Look," he began calmly, "I didn't do anything to Hermione."

Ron scoffed. "Yeah… sure. So you two are seen on a date in the library" – he spat the word "date", jealousy and sarcasm apparent in his tone, though his voice didn't skip a beat – "and suddenly she's hauled into the Headmaster's office with half a dozen teachers and a Ministry investigator and you had nothing to do with it? Right. I'll buy that."

George shook his head, sighing. "I know how you feel, watching someone you like dating someone else, your brother, even," he reasoned, remembering his own torment over Fred and Alicia. He meet Ron's gaze as he was standing so he towered over his younger sibling, "I have no interest in Hermione." He had to fight the urge to laugh at the very thought. "She asked me out. I didn't even want to… I just… I didn't want to be rude, I guess." He punctuated the sentence with a shrug and a lop-sided smile, doing his best to explain without offending his younger brother or Hermione.

Ron glared at him, his eyes burning with the conviction of a hundred unspoken words. "Stay away from her," he ordered.

George nodded, doing his best to appear serious. "Got it."

Ron shook his head, hardening his eyes more. George refused to meet his eyes.

"If she gets through this, you steer clear of her no matter what. Fred too. You two are poison."

George flinched as if he'd been slapped, hanging his head at Ron's words. He wanted to argue, tell Ron he was wrong, but it was obvious that he wouldn't listen. He'd been tainted by a special brand of deafness in his feelings for Hermione.

"I said I got it…" George mumbled, fighting off mixed emotions. He wanted to be angry. He wanted to defend himself and Fred. He wanted to yell that Hermione was bat-shit crazy and should be locked up. He did none of it. Instead, he did his best to look remorseful.

Ron nodded curtly, stepping forward to move past George to his own dormitory, but it was George's turn to ask a few questions now. He reached out a hand, grabbing Ron's arm with no real force. It stopped his little brother nonetheless.

"What?" Ron demanded, eyeing George's hand as if it were something filthy and offensive.

"What'd she do?" George asked.

Ron looked more offended than ever, shaking his head slightly. "Nothing!" he defended, puffing his chest and yanking his arm free.

George sighed. "Of course. What I mean is what's she been accused of?" he corrected, feeling more irritated by the second. He just wanted Ron to answer the damned question. Was that so hard?

"Why's it matter?" Another deflection.

George found himself grinding his teeth to keep his composure. It had been a long day and he'd endured Ron's inquisition and accusations with as much grace as he possessed. He had no patience left for deflections.

"It matters to me." Ron looked at him like he was possessed. George switched gears. "Maybe I can help her out since I was with her all afternoon." George hoped that it wouldn't take so much to get Ron to crack. His thinly veiled offer to help seemed to do the trick as the younger Weasley relaxed slightly, though his voice kept its edge.

"Snape claims she swiped his potions," Ron admitted tensely. You could practically see the fantasies about beating Snape to a pulp running through Ron's head. His desire to punch the head of Slytherin House couldn't have been any more obvious to the world if he'd run down the hall yelling about it.

George blinked rapidly, meeting Ron's gaze for the first time since he stood. "What?" he asked, incredulously. "What potions?"

Ron sighed, looking into the distance as he recalled the names of several potions he'd heard mentioned in passing gossip since the room search. Only two he could remember clearly as he'd heard them more than all the others combined. He was pretty sure he'd even heard Snape grumbling about them to the Ministry investigator. "Veritaserum and polyjuice potion I think… Why?"

George had to make an effort to keep his jaw from hitting the floor. "Veritaserum…" he muttered, feeling the words sink in, chilling him to the bone. "Ah… No reason, okay? Thanks, Ron. I'll do what I can."

Ron nodded sharply, moving past him and disappearing with a look of satisfaction as if he'd earned Hermione's freedom in one conversation. As if George really had the power to save her from whatever fate lie beyond the doors to the headmaster's office. Apparently Hermione and Ron shared the delusion that George was some mythical hero.

George sighed, his brain setting to the task of deciphering the information Ron had given him. He had heard of the truth serum before, supposedly strong enough to make Voldemort himself spill his darkest secrets with only three drops.

He stood stock still, his eyes unfocused as he whispered the names of the potions again. His mind blinked at break-neck speed through their study date, trying to think of when or how she'd slipped it to him.

It hit him like a bolt of lightning from a clear blue sky.

"Butterbeer…" he mumbled to himself, eyes wide.

Maybe it was the shock of it all, but he felt as if all the blood had vacated his body suddenly, leaving him painfully numb all over.

She'd brought the drinks. His was opened when he got there. He hadn't thought anything of it, but now it was obvious. Hell, it should have been obvious then. After all, she'd barely disguised it, hadn't she?

George heard someone laughing, a hint of hysteria and disbelief echoing off the walls. He was surprised when he realized it was his voice bouncing back to him. He was laughing at the absurdity of it all.

He'd been drugged with veritaserum and for what?

Why?

What was her goal?

To find out trivial information he'd have given her in any casual encounter if she'd just bothered to ask?

His laughter died down as his mind threw out the name of the other potion she'd been accused of stealing.

_Polyjuice potion_.

As suddenly as he'd started laughing he stopped.

What had she needed a transfiguration potion for?

Who had she planned to turn into?

And why?

The whole situation was ridiculous and left George feeling violated and disgusted. He shook his head again, scrambling to regain his sense of reality as he tried to remember what he was doing in the hallway to begin with. Somehow, he was sure if he remembered that one tiny thing, he'd snap out of Wonderland. Until then, he seemed to be trapped.

That was the theme of the day: trapped. He'd been trapped in the Great Hall by Hermione as she asked him out. He was trapped by her again in the library, forced to answer anything she asked. Now, it seemed, he was trapped by his own mind, standing in this hallway, unable to remember where he'd been heading.

"Hey, George?"

George stiffened as a wind-chime voice slowly brought him back down to earth. He turned to meet Alicia's dark eyes. They planted his feet firmly on the ground again. Too firmly… he was sinking now, he was sure of it.

"What's wrong?" she asked. She could see his face clearly now and he could see hers.

Her eyebrows were drawn together with worry. Her eyes danced in her sun-kissed face and her pouty, full lips were pressed into a tight line of concern. She looked like an angel of mercy come to keep him from falling completely apart under the stress and shock of knowing how Hermione had poisoned him.

In contrast, his face was stark white and gaunt. He looked as though the entire concept of expression beyond his eyes had abandoned him. His normally bright eyes were faded to the lightest shade of periwinkle. They stood wide and feral in perfect mimicry of a captured beast as he stared at her. He looked like he'd just escaped Azkaban.

George blinked a few times, tears he didn't even realize were there burning his eyes. He was vaguely aware that his heart was beating far too quickly as the world shifted on its axis under his feet. His mouth worked without his permission for the last time that day as he found himself whimpering a plea for help.

The world moved in slow motion then.

Alicia's eyes flew wide, dark and raven-like, as she turned her head. Her silk curls flew haphazardly around her, making her look weightless to George. Her mouth moved into a horrified yell for help.

He realized he couldn't hear her, but he knew who she was yelling to.

He saw Fred appear in the doorway as the world started to dim. Then, Fred was racing toward him. Slowly. Too slowly.

Why did Fred look so terrified and panicked?

Why was he so pale?

Had someone poisoned him too?

Even his freckles seemed drained of color.

Why was he shoving Alicia like that?

'_She hit the wall,' _George thought weakly, watching Alicia fly away from Fred's hand as she'd tried to run ahead of him. He'd pushed her back toward the door with unexpected force, knocking her into the wall with a painful thud.

George's mind was making observations where it could to try and keep him tethered to consciousness. It wasn't working.

The floor under him moved. The world tipped sideways. The hall twisted in his ever-darkening vision in a terrifyingly macabre way. The last thing George remembered was a loud, crisp crack, like a bat connecting with a rogue Bludger, and then it was black.

He couldn't feel the ground.

He couldn't see Fred.

Just black nothingness.

(TBC on 9/16/13 - Read Author's Notes, please)

* * *

**Author's Notes: Okay, so let me say, seriously, did you guys really think I could let Hermione use the polyjuice potion? Even I'm not that twisted! I know it's a bit anticlimactic, and for that, I apologize, but I'm ready to get this story back on track with Fred and George. **

**Poor, poor George is apparently in shock (and who wouldn't be?!) and fainted. For those of you who have never fainted (which is all of you I hope because it sucks), this is what it is really like. And it's terrifying… even after the hundredth time or so. Some people don't do well under such stressful conditions…. George is definitely one of them. (And Fred too, now that I think about it! Man I'm mean to them!)**

**Anyway….**

**Good news****: Chapter 19 is well under way… And I don't plan to torture the twins too terribly much in the future. Well, maybe a little, but definitely less. **

**Hermione's part in the main storyline is also done. She'll still be there, still be mentioned, but with her sanity back, she's got some shit to deal with on her own now. **

**As for Alicia… We'll just have to wait and see.**

**Bad news****: I'll be taking a 2 week hiatus. This week my husband is gone and my kids need my attention full time (and I need sleep since my backup isn't here) and next week I'll be going on a 2,200 mile road trip with the kids to visit some friends. **

**I'll be writing when I can, so I'll have backlog of chapters ready again, but from today (the second) to the sixteenth, I'll be (mostly) out of commission on ****this**** particular fic. Sorry to leave you hanging here. I suck…I know…**

**Now, if inspiration strikes and I have a moment, I might write/post a one-shot here or there or even the start to some new fics, but this story has been full-time for me so I don't wanna risk half-assing a chapter anywhere. If I get more than 5 chapters ahead again (which I probably will), I'll try to post for you guys. **

**I hope you all understand and I love you guys! **

**See you on the sixteenth! **


	19. Nothing to Hope For

**Author's Notes: Ok, so since there were several questions about the end of the last chapter, I'm going to go ahead and post chapter nineteen to explain a little… I hope this clears things up for everyone.**

**Sorry for confusing you guys in the first place. My brain is wired a little differently than most people so what's clear to me isn't always clear to other people. I forget this… my bad. :P**

**And because we all have a song that just explains things too well… Hope you're all up to date on music from the 1960s… if not, prepare to go to youtube or google and listen to this awesome song. :)**

**This chapter ended up massively long. Normally I would split it into two, but it just didn't work this time. (My chapters are getting longer as I go, I've noticed... must be growing to match my confidence and ego?) And you guys keep finding ways to suck me back in when I'm ****trying**** to take a vacation. And this is why I adore you, my wonderful readers. lol**

**Now, I swear to God I'm starting my vacation! See you on the sixteenth!**

**Disclaimer: I claim no ownership or rights over the song **_**Safe in My Garden**_** by The Mamas & The Papas. It's just one of my many favorites and, in my head, fit this chapter perfectly.**

**((Also Updated the story summary just for fun.))**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen: Nothing to Hope For

George swayed precariously, his eyes staring straight through Alicia in a daze. He looked confused and strangely calm. Something was wrong. His pupils contracted, his eyes fading to grey-blue and glazed with unshed tears as his body tilted on wobbly legs.

The realization came fast. Alicia had seen this before. Not often, but enough to know what was coming next.

He was going to faint.

She turned her head so quickly she felt her spine crack painfully somewhere near the base of her skull.

"FRED!" Alicia yelled her eyes wide and terrified. "HURRY!"

Fred took in her expression and ran to the door. George tipped sideways, his legs giving way at the knees. Alicia was poised to race for him and try to catch him.

Fred felt his body go numb, all the blood in him rushing away from his extremities to keep up with his heart. All sense and thought was driven from his mind in panic as is legs propelled him forward of their own volition.

Alicia was half a step in front of him, blocking his way. He wasn't thinking about it when he swung his arm in front of her, palm landing flat on her chest. He felt himself shoving her backward, clearing his path as he side-stepped her flying body. He heard the thud as she made contact with the wall.

I t didn't matter.

All that mattered was that George was falling fast, his head on a collision course with the hard, unforgiving floor.

George was in trouble.

George was going to be hurt.

George needed him.

That's all he cared about.

That's all that mattered.

Fred dove, sliding on his knees into the last foot of space separating them. He wrapped his arms deftly around George's shoulders, his muscles straining under the force of his twin's weight.

There was a resounding crack that echoed painfully in his ears as George's head bounced gingerly off the floor. He hit… but not too hard. No harder than if he had tripped and not nearly as hard as he would have if Fred hadn't caught him.

Alicia's head swam as she shook away the pain. Her back was on fire where she'd hit the wall. She felt empty as she watched Fred lift George from the floor, straining under his weight.

He carried his twin like an ancient relic, fragile and precious. He paid her no mind, stepping past her into the bedroom. She stood, wincing against the pain in her spine and followed, closing the door behind her. When she turned around, Fred had laid George on the bed, kneeling next to him with his head bowed, hands clasped in front of him as if in prayer. She could tell by the way his shoulders shook that he was trying not to cry and failing miserably.

She could feel the strain on her heart, slowly splintering it within her chest. Unlike his memories, most of them filled with passion and lust up to this point, this was a scene of pure, unadulterated love.

"He'll be okay," she managed, her voice soft and meek.

Fred's eyes met hers, tears flowing freely down his face. "He hit his head…"

"Yes." She agreed. "He fainted, but he'll be okay."

Fred shook his head, his hands combing through his light russet hair. He took a deep, shuddering breath and started calling his brother's name in a small, pleading voice.

"George?"

Alicia watched, feeling a void opening in her chest. Her heart splintered more, cracking under the weight of the scene in front of her.

"Hey, Georgie…" Fred choked back a sob, stroking the back of George's hand gently. "Wake up, will ya?"

It hit her, then, as the void grew.

No matter how strong the attraction between Fred and her, no matter how close she was to Fred and George, their bond was unbreakable. In Fred's eyes, with George around, she was nothing to him. Just another person. Just another face. But, ultimately, nothing. George was all that mattered.

She thought she had already understood that. She didn't realize she'd been clinging so tightly to that last shred of hope. She didn't know she'd been hoping this was a phase, or that it was just the thrill of doing what they shouldn't; that one day, Fred would wake up and see her before George.

Now she knew she had to let go. There was nothing here to hope for. There was no space for her between them. She was Fred's friend, but he would never feel a fraction of the love or affection for her that he felt for George. She could see that much right in front of her. She was doomed from the first day she met them.

"George?" Fred was still crying, stroking George's face gently.

It was all she could take.

All emotion left her.

The void was growing too fast, reaching its maximum size and eating a giant hole in her chest.

Her heart shattered completely.

She would not abandon them.

They needed her.

She would bury her feelings, set herself aside, and push on from here.

_.~*~._

_In the dark, he heard a quiet, angelic whisper. It was a voice he'd know anywhere, soft and sweet and so much like his own. _

"_George? Hey, Georgie?" _

_George sat up to find he was still surrounded by dark, though the sky above him – or what he assumed was sky – was twinkling with hundreds of thousands of pinprick stars. _

"_George?" The voice echoed, calling him from somewhere in the void, but he waited. Fred would find him. Fred always found him, no matter where they were. _

_He knew this had to be a dream, but it didn't matter. Even in his dreams Fred found him, lifting him out of nightmares at just the right time to tell him it was okay and that he was there._

_Fred would always find him…_

As if by divine intervention, Fred felt like his prayers had been answered. George opened his bleary eyes to see the figure of his twin hovering over him, tears streaking his face.

"Shhh… don't cry," George whispered, reaching up with gentle fingers and wiping Fred's face. "You found me…"

Fred sat back on his heels with a choked sob of relief. For the longest five minutes of his life, he'd knelt next to the side of the bed, calling George's name repeatedly to try and bring him around. No words could describe his joy at seeing those bright blue eyes open again.

He knew he'd been irrationally worried, but the thought of George being hurt was almost too much to bear. He was supposed to protect George and he'd never felt more like a failure than he did then.

"Thank God," Fred breathed quietly, exhaling like he'd been holding his breath since George fell.

"I told you he would be okay," Alicia chimed in, trying her best not to sound like she was saying "I told you so" as she knelt next to Fred stroking his back in slow, soothing circles.

Fred slowly relaxed under her hand, sniffling back the remainder of his tears as he wiped his eyes clear. George was okay. The world was right again, he thought.

"Yeah… yeah you did," he agreed, chuckling a little. He grinned at her, their eyes locking for a moment.

Her face was strangely blank. She felt as if her heart had not only shattered, but as if maybe she'd never been born with one at all. That couldn't be true, though, because if it was, she was sure she wouldn't have cared so much.

Fred broke eye contact first, his face coloring with shame. He suddenly remembered he had a lot to be ashamed of that day, but it would have to wait. Right now, making sure George was okay was all that mattered to him. He would deal with everything else later.

"Thanks, 'Licia."

George had slowly become more aware of his surroundings, though his comprehension was slightly muddled from the fall. He watched Fred and Alicia calmly, his eyes narrowing at the pair only when they locked eyes. He had noticed that Alicia was not her usual bouncy self and felt a slight pang of guilt, assuming it was due to worry over him. He wanted to apologize, tell them he was okay, and get out of the bed, but he was suddenly aware of the intense pounding in his head. He slammed his eyes shut to block everything out, groaning at the pain.

"George?!" Fred's voice was alarmed and George felt strong hands on either side of his face, patting his cheeks gently to rouse him again. It didn't take much to make Fred panic in that moment and the sight of George, in pain with his head pushed back against the pillows was a hell of a hair trigger for him.

Alicia clenched her teeth as her emotions filtered back to her one at a time in a slow, unpleasant parade. First was anger at being forgotten. She waited, focusing on staying calm, telling herself it was her own fault.

"I'm still awake," he grumbled, swatting Fred's hands away. "I'm fine…"

Despite his protests and wake reassurance, his voice boomed loudly in his ears. He groaned against another jolt of pain in his temples, taking note that the pain seemed to be spreading to the backs of his eyes and radiating outward to reach every part of his skull.

"What's wrong? What can I do?" Fred asked. His attention was firmly on George again.

Next was jealousy marching hand in hand with resentment. She found she resented the fact that she had to stand in the shadow of their love watching her own dreams crumble in front of her eyes. Again, she tried to force herself to stay calm. Again, she reminded herself that this was her own fault. She could have left well enough alone. She could have taken the rejection at face value and went about her business, moving on to someone else. She didn't. It was her fault.

Annoyance and irritation rode the same float in the parade as well. She wanted to be comforting to Fred, but her emotions betrayed her, edging into her tone without consent.

"He's fine, Fred. Let him rest," Alicia ordered, standing and moving away from the pair. Fred didn't seem to notice whether she was there or not anymore, so what did it matter?

"My head," George moaned, forcing himself to sit. It was the wrong move to make as his stomach lurched upward as the world seemed to shift downward. He fought the urge to wretch as bile flooded his throat. He choked down the burning acid and hung his head between his knees.

"You okay? What can I do?" Fred asked again, attempting to sound casual.

"M' head hurts," George admitted weakly.

Fred looked to Alicia, his face stricken and pale.

She furrowed her brow, casting her gaze to the floor as shame joined the parade in her mind. She was ashamed of all the things she was feeling as a whole. The void was slowly filling back up and she would have given anything to be numb again.

"If you're that worried you should take him to the infirmary," she advised calmly. She realized she had started pacing at some point and moved to sit on a trunk at the foot of George's bed, unsure what to do with herself.

George shook his head violently, immediately regretting it as another flood of acrid bile threatened him. He swallowed hard, forcing it back down once more, though the taste of it lingered in the back of his throat.

"'M fine," he argued, forcing his eyes back opened. The world looked soft and fuzzy again. He blinked against the blur, willing his vision clear. Once he could see straight, though it took a massive effort to keep his eyes in focus, he found Fred still kneeling beside the bed, though the worry in his eyes had lessened considerably. Fred smiled, though his eyes flickered for a moment to the foot of the bed toward Alicia.

George followed his gaze, being careful not to turn his head too suddenly, and spied Alicia sitting on his trunk.

Alicia had her bowed, cradling it in her hands. She was at war with herself, silently grasping for the numbness again. She didn't want to feel. She wanted to run. She wanted to sleep. She wanted to hurt herself. Anything to distract her as the last painful emotion in her mental parade strolled in. Heartbreak.

It was easily the worst of them all. Worse than sadness or despair or anything else she could think of. She'd had a "broken heart" before, felt it in the pain of rejection, the horrible reminders she was different, having to hide her abilities. This was indescribably worse than anything she'd ever felt in her life, magnified by her lack of sleep and the urge to scream aloud.

"Is she okay?" George asked quietly, trying to make sure only Fred could hear him.

Alicia shook her head in response, not looking back at them.

"I don't know… I think she's mad at me," Fred admitted quietly.

George vaguely remembered seeing Fred push her, watching her fly into the wall – or was it the door? His memory of the event was still unclear, but he knew Fred had messed up somewhere. He wanted to know what had happened. He remembered something about Hermione and potions, but it was fuzzy in the wake of the minor concussion that had rattled his senses.

"George, you need to lie down and rest," Fred mumbled, trying to guide him back down to the bed.

George remembered not to nod again as a fresh wave of nausea swept through him, reminding him of the horrible ache in his skull. It had never really lessened, but it hadn't intensified until now either. He let Fred guide him back down, pulling his blankets up gently and kissing him on the forehead.

George smiled sweetly against the pain, feeling exhaustion seeping into his bones as the plush blanket and soft mattress laid claim to him. George's eyes fluttered against the pounding in his temples as he fought to stay awake.

"I need to talk to Alicia," Fred whispered, kissing his head again. "You rest."

"Fred?" George called, barely able to keep his eyes open.

"Hmm?"

"I love you."

Fred smiled, watching George drift slowly. "Love you, too, Georgie."

Alicia went unnoticed as she felt her emotions collapse within her again. The void was back, the parade had stopped, the numbness was seeping back in finally, but the pain… the pain of her shattered heart refused to leave.

George couldn't see anymore. He felt himself sink into mattress as gravity pulled him away from reality. He struggled against it, listening as hard as he could to the room. He could hear Fred's footsteps padding quietly across the floor to meet Alicia. He heard the trunk groan as Fred sat, speaking in a hushed whisper.

"He's exhausted."

Alicia nodded silently, her head still hung. Her hair fell freely over her shoulders in long curtains of silky black curls, guarding her from Fred's eyes.

George groaned, still fighting the heavy pull of sleep. He wanted to roll over, but his limbs refused to move. Behind his eyelids, the pinprick stars were back, beckoning him toward the darkness and lulling him deeper to sleep. The pain in his head beat on like a drum from the realm of reality.

"You sure he'll be okay?" Fred asked quietly.

Alicia nodded, scooting over the footboard of the bed to crawl stealthily to George's side.

"What're you doing?" Fred asked as she laid herself next to George, head propped on one arm.

Her face was blank when she finally looked at him, halting his question.

"I'm helping." She turned to George then with her dark, honeyed face and smiled against the pain. It was amusing to her how different they were: strong, independent Fred and sweet, weak little George who needed his twin for everything. She'd never noticed it much before, but now she saw it. George didn't even want to fall asleep alone.

"Shhhhh… rest…" Alicia whispered, running her hands over his forehead gently. She hummed a softly, letting her fingers play in George's long, copper hair, brushing it across the pillow in straight lines. She didn't want to be here, but she didn't want to leave. More than anything, she just didn't want to talk to Fred right now. She wanted him to listen and understand how she felt. Before long her humming turned into a quiet song:

"_Safe in my garden,_

_an ancient flower blooms._

_And the scent from its nature_

_slowly squares my room_

_and its perfume being such__that_

_it's causing me to swoon._"

Fred stared in awe as George slowly relaxed to Alicia's voice, the unfamiliar lullaby melting his anxiety away. No one had ever calmed George so easily before. No one but him, that is. Even their mother struggled with it.

"_Could it be we were hot-wired?_

_Late one night, we're very tired._

_They stole our minds_

_and thought we'd never know it_."

Alicia cast a small smirk Fred's way, though she never paused or missed a beat in her song.

"_With a bottle in each hand,_

_too late to try to understand;_

_we don't care where it lands..._

_we just throw it._

_Somebody take us away..._

_Somebody take us away..._"

George could hear himself breathing, heavy and slow, as he let her lull him to sleep. It wasn't something he'd consciously chosen to give into.

As she sang, he found the darkness behind his eyes lighten until each tiny pin of light that he'd called a star slowly turned to a flower. He was standing, alone and free in a beautiful garden, the song swirling visibly through the air like a blue wind.

There was an odd kind of magic in the lullaby and it seemed to free him from weeks of emotional torment and stress. He wondered in his half-sleep state if Alicia had chosen to sing this song for that same magic – to free her of some kind of unpleasantness for a moment?

"_Safe in my garden,_

_an ancient flower blooms._

_And the scent from its nature_

_s__lowly squares my room._

_A__nd it's perfume being such__that_

_it's causing me to swoon_."

Alicia's singing voice was like a melody of bells that left Fred paralyzed as he watched her. She was still stroking George's hair with all the love and care of a mother. In spite of her attention on George, though, her onyx eyes had found his.

In them he saw all the love and pain a fourteen year old girl could stand to bear and he knew that she had been taking the high road since day one.

George made a quiet noise followed by a low snort that told them he was asleep and beyond hearing her anymore. He was lost to his dream, enjoying his own little garden, free from the world.

Still, Alicia sang, refusing to look away from Fred as she poured her heart into the song. Fred knew she was singing for him, trying to tell him what she wasn't allowed to say.

"_When you go out in the street,_

_s__o many hassles with the heat__;_

_n__o one there can fill your desire._

_Cops out with the megaphones,_

_telling people stay inside their home._

_Man, can't they see the world's on fire?_

_Somebody take us away..._"

Her voice trailed quietly away and she slowly turned her eyes back to George, smiling. She was amazed that she could still smile at this point.

"_Take us away..._

_Safe in my garden,_

_an ancient flower blooms._

_And the scent from its nature _–"

Her voice was a barely audible whisper now as she finished, but somehow it was more powerful than ever.

"–_slowly squares my room…_"

Alicia swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaning forward on her knees with her head hung.

"I love that song," she said, her voice dreamy and tired as if she'd been speaking to him for hours on a subject of great import.

Fred nodded, coming back to himself and moved to next to her and George.

"It was beautiful," he commented. He almost wanted to laugh, wondering when the last time he'd used the word "beautiful" to describe something had been.

"You sing very well," he added honestly.

Alicia sighed, nodding. "'S what my mom always said."

Fred cleared his throat nervously.

"I'm sorry about earlier in the hall… I shouldn't have shoved you," he muttered turning his head away from her in shame. "I just… panicked… Ya know, 'cause of George and the fainting and stuff… You alright?" The question was long overdue.

Alicia sighed heavily, nodding to herself, trying to think of how to respond. She wondered if she was alright.

It was late. She was tired. Her back was still sore from hitting the wall, though she ignored the pain with relative ease. Her chest hurt and she was teetering on the brink of emotional and physical collapse. That she couldn't ignore.

She didn't want to talk about it. She'd already said – or rather sang – her peace.

"I'll always be here for you and George," she said, standing.

"Why?" Fred asked, genuinely confused. Nothing he'd done that day had been right by her. Why would she still want to be there for him?

"Because," Alicia paused, searching for an answer that would do the least amount of damage to her own heart. There was no good answer so she opted for the truth.

"Because you and George need me. Or, rather, you need someone on your side here."

He couldn't argue with her logic.

"And because I love you."

She said it amazingly easily despite the weight of the words. Her heart broke all over again at the admission, but she ignored it, grasping firmly to the dead, numb feeling left in the wake of her broken heart.

Fred was stunned. He tried to sputter a response, but quickly gave up. What was there to say?

"You love George," she supplied for him, a sad smile finding her face.

He nodded, his face taking on a rich sanguine hue.

"I knew that, or at least I thought I did." She faced him, hands behind her back and tears in her eyes. "Can't help who you love, right?" She shrugged and grinned even as her tears broke free, rolling in fat streaks over her round face.

"Alicia… I'm –"

She cut him off, afraid she'd lose the last of her composure if he said something stupid or comforting.

"George needs you," she stated, "and I need sleep. I'll see you later." She leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. "Go to bed, Fred."

Fred nodded. He didn't try to speak. He didn't try to apologize again. He didn't try to stop her as she left. She needed to get away from him and he knew it. He let her go, feeling some small part of his heart breaking for her.

She really was a saint.


	20. Guilty as Charged

**Author's Notes: So, let me just say, I had a nice little Fred and George chapter all typed up for this and, thanks to my brand new not-going to-work USB drive, I lost it. To make matters worse, I didn't even remember what I'd written (and it was fantastic!). UGH!**

**So, after brainstorming with my best friend/proofreader, we decided to tie up more loose ends. I feel I'm probably half-way done with this story… maybe… I don't know really. But that's how it feels. **

**Bah... I'm rambling. Anyway, this is a more Ron/Hermione-esque chapter that will probably be totally continued in a different story later on. For now, this is officially the end of the spotlight on Hermione. She'll still be around, but only in glimpses as the fic gets focused back on Fred and George. **

**Sorry if the writing isn't up to par with my usual stuff… I've kind of been blocked since I got back from vacation and losing what I ****had**** written has only made that worse, so this is the best I got right now. Hope you enjoy and can't wait to see some feedback. **

**P.S. I love you ALL for being so patient with me! I'll try to have another update ready by this weekend… I'm aiming for once a week updates until I can get back to daily updates again. Thank you all again for your unending patience with me.**

**UPDATE: Found ****a****lot**** of errors in this chapter upon re-reading it and did some editing and fixing. Sorry for the confusion and crappy writing, everyone… I was beyond exhausted writing this and apparently my brain didn't want to work in harmony with my hands at the time.**

* * *

Chapter Twenty: Guilty as Charged

Ron had been pulled out of classes for the day and escorted to the large, ten-story building that housed the Ministry's govenermental majority, where he was supposed to be testifying to Hermione's character. It had been four days since Hermione had been escorted to the Headmaster's office at Hogwarts and the "trial for her alleged crimes" (as Professor McGonagall had explained it) was finally under way.

"It's necessary that they understand whether this kind of behavior is normal for her at Hogwarts before the Wizengamot makes their ruling," Professor McGonagall had explained to him, her features soft and understanding as a look of terror cross the red-head's freckled face. "They asked me to bring her best friend," she added with a small smile.

Ron nodded stiffly, swallowing hard. "Alright… if it helps Hermione, I'll do it," he agreed, his stomach turning under the mask of false confidence he tried to wear.

He now found himself sitting on a hard, stone bench inside the Ministry of Magic. He was buried ten stories under on the floor that housed all the Wizengamot courtrooms, though, to his knowledge, Hermione's case was the only one being heard that day, leaving the entire floor eerily vacant.

He leaned forward on his knees, peering down the silent corridor before sitting back with a loud sigh, his left knee jumping up and down with anxiety. His backside was going numb against the frigid marble of the bench as he waited for them to call him in.

It had already been over three hours and he'd tried to keep his mind steady, occupying himself by counting the continual loop of fluffy, white clouds that passed the bewitched windows of the underground building. However, the novelty of cloud-counting had worn off quickly and he found himself getting more and more anxious as the seconds, minutes, and then hours ticked by in slow precession.

He wondered if they'd decided not to use his testimony after all. He tried not to think about it, studying his faded sneakers with intent purpose.

'_Maybe her character didn't matter. Maybe they'd already made their ruling and were just deciding the best punishment now? Maybe they'd already had someone apparate her to her London home.'_

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind. No. They wouldn't do that. The Wizengamot was supposed to be fair and just. They'd want to know her character before ruling. Still, his mind persisted down his pessimistic path in spite of itself.

'_Maybe she wouldn't be coming back to school at all...'_

His train of thought was cut off when a large door to his left swung open with a loud, strained creak that echoed through the hall. A small man with watery blue eyes and a head full of frazzled grey hair stared at him before glancing down at a small slip of paper in his hand. He had to squint his eyes to read it, transforming his ancient face into a fine-lined map of wrinkles that hid his features.

"Ronald Bilius Weasley?" he asked, raising his head again, his wrinkles smoothing back into a human face as he stared at Ron questioningly.

Ron jumped to his feet, doing his best to keep his stride even and confident as he approached the man.

"Aren't you Arthur's boy?" the man asked, forgetting the task at hand. His eyes roamed over Ron's freckles and bright, ginger hair. "The youngest, right?"

Ron nodded, trying not to roll his eyes. "Yeah. So, they ready for me?" he asked, his tone bordering on rude.

"Oh right!" The man started a little and nodded quickly, standing aside with the door held wide to usher Ron inside.

Ron stepped past him, his stomach turning nervously as he crossed the threshold into the room, though he tried to keep his head high.

The room was large and round, lit only with dim torches that danced across the dark, stone walls. He walked down the short aisle that led to the center of the room, staring up in wonder at the rows and rows of benches that scaled the walls. It felt imposing as it was, he could only imagine how much worse it would feel if every seat were filled and the eyes of hundreds of wizarding elders stared down at him with accusation and expectation.

As it just so happened, there were only half a dozen or so elderly witches and wizards sitting on a middle bench in front of him, each fixing him with a serious and skeptical stare as he came to a stop behind the single wooden chair that sat in the very center of the room.

His heart sank when he realized that Hermione was nowhere to be found in the court room, though he relaxed a bit when Professor McGonagall came to join him. She appeared from a small door hidden near the backside of the room behind where the row of Wizengamot judges sat.

"Where's Hermione?" he asked her quietly when she reached his side.

"We're asking the questions," a stern, female voice answered.

Ron snapped his head toward the judges. His sapphire eyes were wide with fear and nerves, though he jutted his jaw out defiantly. He counted them now, nine in all and scanned the group to see who'd spoken. His eyes fell to a plump witch sitting on the far right of the row.

She glared at him with muddy brown eyes set in her round, pink face. Her head was adorned with a hideous bubble-gum pink bow knotted into her mousy brown hair and she wore an unceremonious pink robe to match. He grimaced at the very sight of her, his nerve endings standing defensively on end under her glare.

"Please sit, Mr. Weasley," another voice interjected. This time it was a male voice, calm but gentle coming from the wizard seated in the very middle of the group, his head bowed so Ron couldn't quite make out his face in the faint torch light.

Ron sat obediently while Professor McGonagall moved behind him, her thin, bony hands griping the back of his chair as if to hold it down. Ron felt distinctly uncomfortable sitting in the center of the room. Even knowing he was not the accused, he felt a jolt of guilt race through him under the watchful eyes of eight of the nine judges. He had the sudden urge to confess every sin he'd ever committed and plead for mercy.

At long last, the judge in the middle looked up, his wrinkled face crinkling up into a familiar smile. Sparkling periwinkle eyes peered through the wrinkled visage and long, silver hair that hung impossibly long and wiry over his shoulders, mingling with his equally long, snowy beard. Ron stared in awe as recognition of his Headmaster dawned on him.

"Now, Ronald," Dumbledore began, letting his smile drop despite his informality in using Ron's first name, "as I'm sure you know, we're here to decide the innocence-" the witch in pink scoffed, though Dumbledore pretended not to notice "-or guilt of Miss Hermione Granger."

Ron nodded slowly, indicating he did indeed know why they were there, though he still had trouble believing this was a trail for Hermione.

"She's accused of stealing and misusing some very powerful potions for ill-gotten means." Dumbledore frowned, folding his ancient hands together on his lap. "What can you tell us about Miss Granger's character?"

Ron's disbelieving stare had turned to an angry glare at hearing the accusations against his friend. "I can tell you that not only did she not steal anything, but she would never steal from someone or misuse a potion."

The witch in pink let out a tiny giggle before leaning over, rudely elbowing her fellow judge back in his seat to speak in a low murmur to Dumbledore.

He leaned toward her and listened intently, nodding his head periodically at her rushed whispers. At last she sat back in her seat, smiling smugly as Dumbledore turned back to Ron.

"It has been brought to my attention that I may need to remind you of Miss Granger's past transgressions concerning one potion in particular? Have you ever seen Miss Granger use or create polyjuice potion without proper permission?" Even as he asked the question, Albus Dumbledore looked weary and irritated.

Ron's mouth swung open and closed as if on a lose hinge. "Well… yeah… but… but that was different! That was to help Harry," Ron stuttered, feeling his defense fall flat.

The pink witch scoffed again, her tiny mouth turning to a wry, sugary-sweet smile to contrast the vehemence in her muddied eyes.

"We all know of Harry Potter and his ridiculous exploits at Hogwarts," she piped up, growling Harry's name as if it were a curse. Her disgusting brown eyes cut across Dumbledore for a moment, revealing a hint of disdain for the elder wizard as she continued, "The point is this is not the first time Miss Granger has bent the rules and misused a powerful potion to achieve her own ends."

Ron glared again, his gaze fixed intently on her, willing her with his eyes and mind to spontaneously combust as the rest of the judges murmured among themselves.

"Maybe not," he declared, his voice rising to a near-yell, "but again, that was to help a friend! She would never do what you're suggesting and use a potion to harm someone else!"

The witch laughed, rolling her eyes and flapping one hand in his direction as if he'd said something utterly adorable. "Oh puh-lease! If she did it once, who's to say she wouldn't do it again?"

Ron stood to his full height then, suddenly looking older than his meager thirteen years should allow.

"I am! I know her better than any of you wrinkled old windbags and I'm telling you, Hermione Granger is the best witch in all of Hogwarts! She makes our teachers feel downright stupid most of the time, she's so smart! But she's also got a heart of gold and would never break the rules unless it was to help someone she felt truly needed her! You want me to tell you about her character, there it is! She's a goody-two-shoes and an insufferable know-it-all who follows "the book" to the letter! Still, you'd have to be as dumb as you look to kick her out of Hogwarts over some unfounded accusations of thievery!" He inhaled deeply, his face flushed red with anger. He glared at them one by one before turning on his heel.

"W-wait!" the pink witch called angrily. "We aren't done here, young man!"

Ron paused, glaring back at her. "I am. You've already decided her guilt, so I'm useless here," he accused before storming out of the room. He strode down the hall to the elevator, wanting nothing more than to put as much space as he could between the courtroom and himself until he'd cooled off and come to his senses.

In the courtroom, Dumbledore chuckled lightly, a broad grin crossing his face. He turned to his fellow judges, his smile never faltering as he raised his hands in a dismissive gesture.

"So, shall we deliberate or shall I go ahead and take a vote?" he asked, focusing his brilliant grin toward the pink witch. "Your vote will not be counted, Ms. Umbridge," he informed her. "I believe Mr. Weasley was correct in stating that you've already made your decision in this case. And so have I, so my vote will also not count."

The witch in pink stuttered her disapproval in an intangible string of mumbles while Dumbledore went on, fixing every judge in turn with his gaze as he spoke.

"I will not have Miss Granger – or any student at my school – unfairly judged as long as I remain Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot."

She balked at his attitude, looking flustered and angry as she sank down in her seat, sulking.

"Now," he continued to the remaining seven judges, "let's vote."

.~*~.

Ron waited patiently outside of the Ministry, amusing himself by kicking rocks against the side of the building, working his anger out. He was sure he'd never see Hermione again… at least not until he was old enough to leave home and find her on his own. She would be left with only a fraction of her magical education, sent back to London, cut off from Hogwarts and the magical world.

His eyes welled up before he could stop them, the thought of losing Hermione sending stabbing pains through his chest.

He didn't here Professor McGonagall approach, too busy trying to force the moisture back into his eyes as he let out a small string of curse words against the Wizengamot.

She announced her presence by tapping him on the shoulder, causing him to visibly jump. He whirled around to face her, his eyes sad and pleading, silently begging for news of a verdict.

"Mr. Weasley," she said her face soft and calm. "I believe someone would like to thank you." She stepped to the side, motioning to the front door of the Ministry.

Ron blinked, dumbfounded as Hermione stepped out, her long, frizzy hair pulled back into a tight braid that bounced off her shoulders as she skipped down the steps of the building. She had chosen to wear her school robes for the trial and he couldn't help but think it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Her chocolate eyes found his and locked, a slow, hesitant smile finding her.

Ron found his feet then, rushing toward her and flinging himself around her, hugging her to him tightly like he was afraid she'd disappear if he loosened his grip for even a second.

"Hermione," he breathed, hanging his head to her shoulder to hide the tears that broke free and slipped from his eyes. He wasn't sure why he was crying except that he was so incredibly relieved and overjoyed to see her.

She hugged him back, holding him gingerly as he shook in her arms. He'd been more scared of her fate than she had, she realized.

"Thanks, Ron…" she whispered quietly. "Your testimony saved me."

"No. Dumbledore-"

She shook her head against him. "No. He couldn't vote. He was only there to watch and make sure everything was fair. You're the one who saved me."

He pulled back, his hands on her shoulders to maintain much-needed contact. He met her face, beaming brightly through the tears. "I knew you were innocent," he whispered quietly.

Hermione's eyes flickered to Professor McGonagall, standing twenty feet away, watching them patiently. She found herself unable to meet Ron's gaze directly as she sighed, her shoulders slumping under his hands. She felt a pang of guilt hit her somewhere near her heart and exhaled heavily, knowing she was about to shoot herself in the foot, but he deserved to know the truth.

"Ron… we need to talk," she mumbled, pulling away.

Ron's face fell, worry etching his eyes. "What? What's wrong? They acquitted you, didn't they?" he asked, suddenly frantic.

His head tried to run through what he would do if they hadn't acquitted her. Maybe he could hide her at the Burrow, keep her from going back to London – to the Muggle world. Surely his mother wouldn't turn her away.

Hermione nodded, her eyes scanning the ground. "Yeah… they did,"

Ron relaxed, breathing a sigh of relief and chuckling to himself.

"But they shouldn't have," she admitted, her eyes finding his for a split second to convey her guilt.

Ron stepped back, his brows knitted together in disbelief. "No… no, you're innocent," he insisted.

"No, I'm not."

"But… But George is the one who…"

She shook her head as he trailed off, tears filling her eyes. It wasn't fair, she told herself. She wasn't allowed to cry after all she'd done. She shifted her gazed upward, blinking back the offending tears and blowing out a heavy breath. She was about to admit everything and twist Ron's affection into a hatred for her she felt she could never live down.

"George is the one I used the veritaserum on," she confessed, her voice dripping with shame. Ron opened his mouth to object, but she held her hand up, silencing him without ever looking at him. If he interrupted now, she'd never get it all out and he needed to know. He deserved to know.

"I stole the potions," her voice was a whisper, but she pushed forward obstinately, determined to come clean. "I stole them and used one on George. I stole Fred's hair for the other one and was ready to use it when they caught me. I thought I had a good reason. I thought I was in love and could make George love me."

Ron grimaced, his face coloring with anger again. He glared at her, his relief at seeing her, his initial disbelief at her confession; everything was replaced with disgust and rage.

He'd accused his brother. He was sure George had been the one who'd been wrong. He'd been sure of her innocence and now, here she was, telling him everything as if she were regaling a Sunday walk in the park. He wanted to puke as he was forced to listen.

"I was wrong. I was obsessed, not in love… but the damage is done. I confessed to the court, told them everything and plead guilty, but Dumbledore insisted on a character witness in the spirit of fairness."

"And you asked for me?" Ron asked, his hand covering his mouth to hold back the bile that threatened to erupt from his twisted stomach. "You knew I'd lie for you..." he muttered, shaking his head.

"I asked for you because you know me the best… even better than Harry."

Ron scoffed, unsure of the truth of that statement now.

"Either way, I was found not guilty of any serious offense. I'll pay the price for breaking the school rules as per Dumbledore's orders." She met his eyes now, her face conveying a mountain of guilt and remorse in the wake of her confession.

"And what was his punishment, exactly?" Ron's eyes narrowed suspiciously, knowing their Headmaster had a penchant for being too soft, especially on their little trio.

"Detention. For as long as it takes to make and replace the potions. It's not as bad as it would have been if not for you," she admitted, trying to sound more grateful than guilty now.

"If not for me lying for you, you mean?" His rebuttal caused her to flinch as surely as if he'd slapped her. "If I'd have known…"

"I know."

"No! You don't. You don't seem to know much of anything lately, Hermione! I unknowingly made a liar out of myself in there! I went off on the entire court defending you! I even went after George, sure he was the one who did something wrong or spread the rumors and got you in this mess. You confessed and then used me to save you? What were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't," she whispered. Her voice was meek and timid as she dropped her head again.

"No. No you weren't," he agreed coldly. "You did everything I just stood in there and said you'd never do because I know you so well. Ha!"

She flinched again under his words, but made no excuses or defense to save herself from the attack.

"Guess it's easy to do whatever you want when you have someone to play for a bloody fool and get you off the hook, huh?"

Hermione's head hung lower than ever, her shoulders beginning to tremble with the force of holding back her tears. Despite her best efforts, the tears slipped from her eyes now, hitting the ground silently.

"I can't believe you," Ron growled, turning away from her before he could be swayed or softened by her crying. "Guess it's good for you I'm apparently as dumb as I look," he muttered, storming away to meet Professor McGonagall.

Hermione followed silently, huge, wet drops dotting the ground under her like breadcrumbs on the dark cobblestones. She knew she'd hurt Ron. She knew he felt used. He had every right to. She'd wronged so many people in so many ways...

As she followed her escort blindly, she thought back to her days in Muggle schools, trying her best to blend into the shadows and avoid unwanted attention and bullying. She decided it was time for her to employ that talent once more. Time to blend in, hide in the shadows, and become anonymous once more; at least until Ron was ready to forgive her. If he was ever ready, that is.


End file.
